


the words beneath my skin, the ink that you put in

by TotemundTabu



Series: 30 THROBB SMUTS [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Classical References, Dirty Talk, Dom Robb Stark, Dom/sub Undertones, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Musical References, Robb Stark is a Gift, Sub Theon Greyjoy, Top Robb Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-05 03:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11569698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: Robb feels alone in his new apartment, but it seems like a beautiful cellist is about to find some nice ways for them to have fun together. Theon, though, seems allergic to commitment and wants to keep their relationship strictly neighbors with benefits. - Multichapters - THROBB / side ASHEYNE





	1. Glass foundations

This was ready since a couple weeks, but I had to work on some fics for an exchange :D so it got a bit delayed. I want to thank all of you who commented on the first of those and laughed with me about the anonymous ao3 system fucking up ;)

On a serious note, thank you in general if you read my crap.

* * *

 

 

**the words beneath my skin, the ink that you put in**

 

* * *

 

 

_I'm the glass you break to touch,_

_but you never want me much._

 

* * *

 

 

**1\. Glass foundations**

 

Robb felt often alone.

He had grown up in a full house, with his four siblings and their cousin Jon. There was never a moment of silence, a moment of quietness.

Maybe that was why nights had gotten heavy.

All that silence, deadweight, would squish him into madness, set his mind in the most restless thoughts’ chains. Sometimes, a car or a truck would pass by the apartment, sometimes a drunk guy, but it was too little, too white, too distant.

There was no Sansa and Arya, bickering over a careless word or a tactless choice or even just about which TV show to watch before bed. There was no Bran and Rickon, playing until late, with video games’ artificial sounds teasing the void and the bluish lights twitching in the night. There was not his mom and dad, scolding them softly – she'd tell him to stop studying until late and just go to bed – and then going to bed together, mumbling sweet nothings and sentences that would seem too cheesy, too banal, too overly sweet for a couple that has been married for over two decades. 

And without all of that Robb didn't seem to sleep well.

Or, rather,  _at all_ .

He yawned, sighed and grabbed his laptop. Might as well work if he was not going to find any sleep.

And then, as 2 AM ticked on the screen, he heard it: music. As dense, dark, heavy, as he hadn't known music could be. Like liquor, like blood.

It sounded like a violin, but much lower, fuller, as if the violin was just a child and its voice finally cracked and let out a beautiful density of low notes.

He leaned in his ear, to listen. It was probably coming from the apartment above his own, but he was unsure of whether it was someone playing or just recorded music. It felt too good, too well-played, for him to not think it were some professional trapped in a CD giving that performance.

But Robb couldn't help but smile, close his eyes, and let the music flow through him.

He could almost see the sea of Ireland, swollen in a tempest, the big open fields of green, sparkling with spring wind, the night turning its veils over the world, moving sensually over the city, to swallow the light, to make it its own. Robb could feel shivers through his bones, as the music entered in him and slowly lead him to imagine and feel.

He missed everyone a tad bit more, all in a moment, and then, he almost felt like his hands were so empty, until now when they'd be full again, and his heart lighter, as the music found a happier tune, a stronger pitch. It grew intense, Robb could almost forget it was a melody now: it just seemed alive, the sound the world was making, not a stranger but a revelation.

And when the neighbour stopped playing, Robb felt shaken, as a kid thrown out of bed by its mother, annoyed, awake and still numb and tingled by lost pleasure and missed afterglow.

Robb was never exactly a fan of classical music.

He liked some folk and pipes songs, some old tunes his mother would hum to him, but classical music... he could recognize some famous tunes, he knew some Mozart, some church classical symphonies; that was it. He had no idea what that composition was, which instrument had played it.

Robb was well-aware he probably couldn't understand the depth of the piece, its inner qualities, maybe he would have sounded profane or blasphemous to an expert, but then – there – listening to that, he felt as if he had already known that melody in a way.

Like you know fear when you feel it in your guts.

Like you know it's not love, as he kisses you and your bones don't shiver to the marrow in delight.

That music echoed softly through him and soothed him.

Robb thought of his mother, caressing his hair, trying not to cry, but to smile proudly – her child gotten such an important job in London, such a good job in such a good University – and she kept nodding in order to swallow up the tears. A wash of grey had started pooling at the roots of her hair, that had before been always as orange as marmalade, her blue eyes looked more vivid as she bit her lips.

And he thought of his father.

As he hugged him and hid his face in Robb's shoulder, as if he were the kid, the small one. He patted Robb's back soundly and seemed to want to say something, but didn't. His jaw clenched and tensed, he gulped but no words came out.

Robb always wondered if he knew.

If that was when and why they had lost each other, along the way. Because he couldn’t remember a day when he had felt close for real to his father since when he had noticed, with puberty, what Robb liked.

He remembered Sansa jumping in his arms, all happy, saying how she couldn’t wait to come to London too, when they will take her for the internship, and that he will have to be her guide there and make a lot of friends, that she will check when she comes. 

Bran pouted and bit his lips. He almost glared. He loved Robb more than anyone else and that was why for him it was the hardest and that anger drizzled on his nerves and made him harsh.

Arya and Rickon hugged him tight and asked for presents and visits.

Bran just didn't ask for anything, because he knew he couldn't ask him to stay – he knew he was alone now, in a way, that nobody saw him like Robb did, because he was the only sibling that saw him more on his legs than in a wheelchair and his wish to protect and to shield never came at the price of treating Bran patronizingly or with a certain extra delicateness that in the family reeked of plastic and fakery.

Robb smiled, moved away. Only then had he felt a shock of pain, a sharp spark, as Bran's wheel hit his leg and he grabbed him from behind, sinking his face in his brother’s back – Bran's nose tickling Robb's spine, Robb's shirt muffling Bran's sobs.

He was happy to go.

He dreamed of London. Of the big city, of the easy modern life, of the... what’s the use of lying? Of the idea of being able to meet boys without the risk of his parents knowing.

He had had some flings with some country boys. One always smelt like milk and they made love between the hay, one would only do it in his truck and they kept organizing fishing trips from which they returned fishless, one that would ask him to call him “whore” but wouldn't cross his eyes on Sunday at mass.

When he arrived to London, he expected something more: to feel at home at pride, to break the closet, to never feel alone – at least not existentially.

But soon he discovered a lot of hate buried under bright colors.

And soon he discovered a traditional workplace can still be as intolerant as the Irish countryside.

And soon he discovered he had never felt lonelier.

He breathed in, resting his head against the pillow, and he heard a new symphony start.

He listened until his eyes closed.

 

*

 

Robb woke up in the middle of the afternoon, stretching, rested like a baby. He scratched his stubble and walked to the small kitchen island, searching for food with the sleepy clumsiness of a bear out of lethargy. He almost stumbled over the books left on the floor – he had filled the bookshelves and had to buy a new one but he kept procrastinating so he made many towers of books but Grey would always smash them to the ground like it was the funniest game.

Robb looked around and found out Grey already had sort of dined by stealing some of the fruit that was on the table – making the rest roll, hopeless and defeated, on the ground – and opening the cupboard where his bone chrunchies were.

Grey was rolling on the ground, scratching his back against the rug and then he turned to Robb, wagging his tail, overexcitedly.

“You're a mess. - Robb claimed, glancing at the mess, sleepy – Don't puppy eye your way out of this.”

Grey whined and stuck his tongue out.

Robb squinted his eyes, gave a grumpy sigh and then smiled, unwillingly, “...not so good boy.”

Grey jumped up and let out a bark of protest, then came up to him and put his front paws very solemnly on Robb's stomach.

Robb shook his head, laughed, and put his hands on his hips, trying his best to seem firm through amusement, “You, manipulative war criminal, are not also asking for a walk, are you?”

Grey barked in agreement at “walk” and Robb nodded, rubbing his ears.

“Well, I do need breakfast, so...”

He started dressing up, Grey jumping around excited about his walk, and then in that moment, he heard it again. Less loud than the night before, but present, almost haunting like the leftover flavor of a kiss.

Robb glanced over his head, at the ceiling.

He wondered about how they looked like. 

Maybe a sweet granny, maybe a little kid still training – no, too good for old fingers or a novice – or someone maybe around his age, even a bit older. Big moustache, an old Londoners’ noble accent, maybe thin, light eyes, very grey, elegant clothes. Probably he played in an orchestra, there were so many in London.

Maybe he could have asked for some lessons.

He wouldn't have minded.

Maybe music would have helped. Maybe he could have asked what he was playing.

He lit up, finished dressing and took a piece of paper – a sticky note, bright yellow as the sun drawn by a child.

 

_Hello!_

_Loved the tunes :D Thank you for the lullaby yesterday!_

_Can I ask the name of the piece?_

 

And, as he put on his jacket, he walked up the stairs and put the message on the wooden door of the apartment above his. For sure, he thought, he would have had a reply.

He didn't even that he could have not signed it.

He then returned to his apartment, grabbed Grey Wind by the leash and called this time the elevator. Grey didn't love to use the stairs.

When the automatic doors opened, he lost his breath.

Well, he was not really a moustached forty year old. Hadn't he had what looked like the case for an overgrown violin and the note in his hands that he was reading with a smirk, Robb would have never... Grey barked and stood between the doors to not make them close again.

The boy gave Robb an ill, sharp look as he entered in, almost stumbling.

God, he was _fine_ .

Dark long hair, pretty angular face, nice shoulders, lean arms, the waist of Axl Rose in the good old days and a pair of trousers that, well, were skinny and obscene enough for the singer to have actually worn them. He also wore a leather jacket and under a perfectly ironed dark, grey shirt.

...well, he was right about something, at least?

He kept staring, unable to realize that the guy must have had noticed him too.

He couldn't help but stare also at his neck, as he saw a little, dark, purple stain, just barely sticking out of the borders of the shirt's collar and then, something similar, but more like a scratch, around his wrists.

Robb felt his crotch twitch, as his brain offered him in the most lewd edition of Be Our Guest a thousand imaginary scenarios where he could have tied that man and bit him and – 

The man glanced at him almost amused, with a smug grin on his face, but then proceeded again to ignore Robb, looking instead, fondly, at the little sticky note.

Robb knew he should have said something, like “hey, my note” or “so, which was the song”, maybe charmingly, while leaning against the elevator's mirror walls, but, instead, he just shut up, the doors opened again and the man left him behind with just the company of the memory of that smirk and of those inappropriate thoughts.

Grey barked and forced him out of the lift, but Robb was still spacing out.

 

*

 

The first time Robb spoke to him was two full weeks later as he was taking down the trash.

So romantic, right?

Well, he was never the luckiest motherfucker in existence. 

To be fair, Robb almost felt lucky that, when going down in his pyjama – sweatpants and nothing under – he decided to at least put on a giant T-Shirt from a rock group, which probably Jon left behind one time he came to visit, since he was sure that name was simply a torture instrument.

The other man, instead – Robb noticed then he was a handful centimetres taller than him and didn't mind at all – glanced at him, smiling, all dressed up in a suit that even Robb could tell cost more than one of his kidneys. The man looked at his shirt, quickly, amused.

“Also metal heads get rid of their trash?”

Robb blinked, confused. Then realized: his cousin's music taste seemed to have interested the man. Somehow he thought it was better not to inform Jon of that.

And there was a joke somewhere in that sentence that he didn't get.

“Ah, yeah. - he mumbled, awkward, dropping the bag into the can and then scratching his nape with the other hand – I, I'm Robb, nice to meet you.”

The man smiled, but didn't offer to hold his hand.

“Theon. - he said, almost softly, his pulpy lips moving so charmingly that Robb couldn't help but stare – I just moved to 3B.”

Robb lit up.

“2B here.”

Theon frowned, smirked. He found the other man cute and not very good at hiding when he wanted something.

“The one with … three kids running around?”

“My siblings. They came to visit... - Robb explained, quickly – I live alone.”

“Good to know.”, Theon chuckled, finding cute the little awkwardness riding Robb's cheeks, staining them the color of coral.

He turned, about to go, and Robb felt an electric spark kicking in his veins.

Like an urgency.

Like a crazy need.

“I could maybe take you out.”

Theon turned, blinking, “...I beg your pardon?”

“As... like, to show you the neighbourhood? - Robb swallowed so hard and dry he wondered if he had squished his Adam's apple, then tried to play it cool, failing miserably at being smooth – I mean, you’re new, so... I can show you stuff like.. Where stuff is. You know the cinema or the grocery store or the pharmacy.”

Theon's eyes shone in a charmingly naughty gleam.

“I suppose. - his lips curled up – That would be nice.”

Robb's face got bright, alight in joy.

“Ah, I... what do you do like... for a living?”

Theon raised an eyebrow, then chuckled, “I'm a cellist. And double-bassist. - he smirked, but seemed almost shy – You might have heard some of my training, in which case I apologize, but I could technically make you pay the ticket.”

Robb smiled and leaned against the building wall. He crossed his legs and scratched his arms slightly.

Theon wondered if that boy knew how easy to read he was.

“That's cool, uh... I loved it.”

Theon bit his lips, glancing up and down again.

Oh, well. He was cute enough to play a bit with.

Humans were toys to tease. Humans were toys without batteries or evident instructions.

If they broke, one could claim innocence.

And their warmth tasted sweeter and denser the more he'd curl his fingers into their ventricles and twist them against their ribs.

Theon Greyjoy lived in the firm belief that sex without anything else was better.

He has had a years-long fondness for the dear old Alexander's method with Gordian knots: strings attached were knots and he had no time to die for someone's daydreams.

He didn't have time to pretend he felt the same.

A cute boy, a cute girl, a couple of funny nights. Nothing more.

Theon liked the fever of the hunt and the pleasure of consuming the earned meal. Cleaning the dishes was not for him.

“Loved it?”

“As much as I can. - Robb admitted – I'm not really a melomaniac.”

Theon felt comforted by that. He didn't want any reason for that fling to get attached to him, to grow sticky on and under his skin.

“I'm a historian.”, Robb concluded and Theon had to make an effort to not point out he didn't ask.

“Oh. - Theon blinked and faked interest for a second, while he still studied the hands and arms of the other man, – Like... you study for a living?”

“Sort of. - Robb admitted, chuckling – Not really creative, I'm afraid...”

“Not exactly the most creative job, but... - Theon glanced at Robb's crotch, more for him to see than to actually check, then raised his eyes and gave a smug, naughty smirk – The oldest profession in the world is a hobby of many. It doesn't take much creativity to have fun.”

Somehow that warm, smouldering voice, like boiling ink, made Robb's throat clench and his hips stiffer. 

Theon grinned, contemplating in solaced elation his effect.

Robb's pale skin flushed. His eyes looked bluer with the embarrassed arousal shining in them. He tried to say something, but it didn't matter.

Words mean very little. Theon knew because he gave them away easily.

He was generous with words, sweet nothings and flirty compliments, which washed away on skins and never sunk between the cracks.

“I have to go now. - he said, with a short wave as his grin widened – But I do expect you to entertain me soon.”

Robb stared at him for a minute, while the cellist walked away. Then Theon seemed to notice it, he turned, laughed amused and shouted, “Pick it up, you dropped it.”

Robb blinked, looked on the ground, “What?”

Theon smirked.

“Your jaw.”

Robb smiled, bit his lips and shook his head. He felt lucky, at first.

 

*

 

That night Robb promised himself not to bother Theon's training. He sat at home, Grey Wind head-butting his legs insistently, with an essay on his lap – The classical authors in Kant. It was genuinely interesting and useful and yet... 

The low honeyed, dark and raw notes of the music above him seemed to grasp him and force him to become their prisoner. It was mesmerizing.

Robb wondered if that's what lust did to him then.

Once it was fucking in a hay barn, balls deep in Conall as he moaned obscenities risking to be caught or wishing for stupid fishing trips just to have Flynn's asscunt squeeze him so tight it was almost painful. Now it was listening to a song and imagining Theon playing it.

There was something sensual in the idea of Theon bending his head, welcoming the cello between his legs, like a good obedient paramour, his arms quick and strong, stroking and tormenting the strings.

He wondered how Theon's breath would tighten when playing, where would his mind wonder – or would it just stay there? Focusing on the strings? - and how it would have felt to kiss him from behind, to grab his face, force him to turn, to bend. Sink, drown in him. 

The music got louder and quicker and darker and stronger.

Robb wondered if he had ever wanted someone so weirdly. There was a certain innocence in liking him, those smirks and the way he played, and then there was something lewd and almost rotten in how he wanted to fuck him open. 

He would have liked to have Theon sit on his cock, legs spread, sprained open, riding his cock, while still trying desperately to keep a rhythm, to play those notes. His hands would twitch and fail. He'd get clumsy. The strings would scream, he would scream. 

He'd bend his head back and rest it on Robb's shoulder, breathes heavy and shattered.

Robb found himself half-hard as, on the highest notes, riding up, he imagined the squirmy moans Theon would let out. And then the low, dare growls he'd whisper in his ear, making him undone, holding his cock in his fist and jerking him off.

“It shouldn't spill on the wood, right? Clean it well from my hand...”, he imagined telling him, biting his shoulders, thrusting again until he would have emptied himself in that soft ass.

He did have a gorgeous ass.

Grey looked at him confused, as if he knew, and Robb felt stupid. Was he really fantasizing about the elevator cellist? 

The music ended and Robb considered what to do for a long moment.

Then licked his lips and went for it, sticky notes and pen in his hands; he slipped the small yellow note under Theon's door.

 

_You owe me two piece titles and a walk btw._

 

He heard a chuckle back.

“Are you still there?”

Theon's voice echoed so soft and so sultry in Robb's ears.

“Maybe. - he let out a laugh – I'm afraid you got a fan.”

Theon opened the door and leaned on the step. He was wearing a long purple shirt, less expensive than the one in the morning, but sure fancy, and leather trousers. His feet were bare.

His eyes looked like dark embers shining. His smirk twitched up.

Robb couldn't help but glance at his hands, at the wrists still slightly bruised – still or again? Two weeks had passed, he found himself trying to remember how many nights he hadn't heard him training and imagining him with someone else dug a pit in his stomach – and wished to tie his wrists up, forcing him against the door and filling his mouth, biting his neck, immobilizing him under his weight and hearing the melody he would have produced, moan after moan.

Theon noticed, but didn't comment, instead he tilted his head pointing at his apartment.

“I'm not a fan of walks, but I can offer you a glass of wine. - he moved closer, pretending to flatten Robb's shirt on his chest and caressing it, then he lifted his warm look – I have a Château Margaux that's been begging me to open it for a while.”

Robb was not really a wine person. But he was no idiot.

He would have drank gasoline if Theon had invited him to.

…maybe that made him an idiot, after all.

“I would... - his eyes flickered and his look lingered on Theon's lips – I would love to.”

Theon smirked, opening the door further and allowing him in.

The apartment was a constellation of black, lucid furniture, big and wide, nothing seemed to betray the whole picture – elegant, fashionable, maybe a tiny bit cold. Robb saw on one of the two sofas the cello and the double-bass, resting close to one another, like lovers in the afterglow.

He saw the darkness swallow up the room, as Theon turned off the light, just to turn on a softer one a moment later. It was more subtle, less invasive, and somehow it stirred Robb's blood with an obscene, suggestive hope.

Robb tried to pull himself together, while Theon opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of wine and two glasses. He tried really not to stare.

“You... uhm, - he glanced, cursed mentally – You should really tell me what you played before.”

“Tonight? - Theon chuckled – You really don't know much of music, do you?”

It didn't seem like an insult, somehow. Theon looked amused, not offended or outraged.

Robb sighed and rolled his eyes, “How famous is it?”

Theon tilted his head and handed Robb a glass full of red, thick, perfumed wine.

Theon's eyes also lingered on Robb's mouth, but intentionally. It was an invitation, a game, not a case or a slip.

And Robb knew that too.

“It's from Carmen. - Theon's fingers returned on Robb's shoulders, distractedly, while he looked away – Never heard it?”

Robb snorted, “The only pieces I know are very quick violins doing... - then he whistled part of what Theon recognized as _eine kleine Nachtmusik_ – Oh, and a woman high-pitchedly chasing her own shrieks.”

Theon laughed, this time genuinely, almost falling ahead against Robb's chest.

“You're blasphemous! I know people that would burn you as a heretic.”

Robb drank a long sip of wine, trying to find in himself the courage to act and then, seeing Theon still looking diverted by his gaffe, he moved a hand on his hips.

“You could teach me some.”

Theon blinked slowly, then gave him an half-lidded, lascivious look. He moved forward, not only accepting Robb's hand but trapping himself more in that hold.

“The gist of it would be... - he looked up, sipped a bit of wine, then caressed Robb's jaw, under his chin, where the stubble scratched gently, the harsh lines and then the big neck. He then half-sung, low, his voice as tender as the flesh when it melts on one’s tongue, his pitch as black as the sultry summer nights, – _L'amour est l'enfant de Bohême, il n'a jamais, jamais connu de loi_...”

When he raised his eyes, to look at Robb while he translates, Robb held his hip firmer. He lowers his face.

“I know French.”

Theon raised both his eyebrows and half-closed his eyes, “Really?”

He took another long gulp of wine, then looked back at Robb, finding him staring now at his collarbones, at the tiny triangle of skin on his chest that he could glimpse at from the shirt cut.

It was a look Theon knew very well.

He smirked, “You should woo me in French then, I think.”

Robb's fingers moved, caressing Theon's skin. They slipped under his shirt, fingertips gently brushing the back, softly teasing the spine trench. Theon shivered, his lips quivering at that, the smirk turning from smug to actually enthralled.

“ _Tu me rends fou de désir..._ ”

“ _Brûlant_?”, Theon asked, so scorching in his voice and glance, that Robb wouldn't need to speak the language to understand. Theon himself was fire, pure desire.

And Robb knew he had been set alight.

“ _Tu me fais bander_.”

Theon bit his lips and glanced at Robb's jeans and the hill on his crotch.

“I can see that.”

Robb's other hand went on Theon's chin, lifting it.

He seemed about to kiss him, but then he stopped, as if he just then realized something, “I wouldn't want to assume, but...”

“You speak too much.”

Theon pulled Robb's head close, filling his mouth deep with his tongue, searching for him in a desperate taste-test. Robb suffocated a grunt and a low moan, then held Theon tight, his hands slipping on his waist, and proceeded to lead the kiss, making Theon falter, moan and welcome his tongue up to the back of his throat. Theon held onto him, his legs seeming to get weak, as he melted in the kiss.

Theon moaned again, as Robb guided him on the sofa, making him sit and pushing against him.

The glasses, now empty, dropped on the sofa; Theon grinned into the kiss, pushing further, deeper. 

Robb stared, unable to close his eyes, amazed by how beautiful Theon looked, felt, under his eyes and hands, around his tongue.

Theon parted his legs, pulled Robb closer, making their crotches meet and rub through the constricting fabrics. The friction was electric sparks in Robb's spine.

Robb grunted into the kiss, humped, rubbing their needy crotches together. Robb could feel Theon hard through the trousers, the leather so attached to his cock that he could see it.

Theon squirmed against him, writhed under his touch, as Robb unzipped both of their trousers, freeing their aching shafts.

Robb held Theon's wrists. Theon bit Robb's neck.

Robb could thrust and rub against Theon's cock, Theon's lips would tremble, his mouth agape, a smirk deformed by panting. He arched his head, throwing him back and letting curse words out, while Robb would try to keep his back firm and his movements steady, while pleasure pulsed and hardened in their cocks, electric and heavy.

Robb's head became dizzy and he held Theon closer, leaving his wrists, allowing Theon to move to Robb's back and sink deep lines into his flesh with his nails.

Robb grunted, roared; one of his hands went on the cocks, jerking them, keeping them close. He'd move up and down, back and forth, rubbing on Theon's cock, while he pumped.

Theon moaned, cursed, clenched his jaw.

Robb above him looked like a vision: handsome, sweating, his auburn curls bouncing with every push, his lips quivering and his eyebrows furrowed while his eyes gave him a focused, dark, harsh look. Theon trembled, caught his lips in a deep kiss, slipping his tongue inside the clenched hard mouth that welcomed him softly.

Their cocks twitched, dripping precum.

Robb's moans filled Theon's mouth and Theon gulped them down, eager for those strangled words.

 


	2. Glass curtains

Warning: During this chapter, due to Robb's inexperience, there are a couple unsafe behaviors. They are pointed out later, but I do desire to warn before for readers' comfort. Just to be sure not to be misunderstood, it is willing that he still makes mistakes now: Robb still has to understand well how this whole thing works, but Theon will be willing to guide him into it ;) so don't worry. 

* * *

 

 

**2\. Glass curtains**

 

* * *

 

_You are red, violent red._

_You hollow out my hungry eyes._

 

* * *

 

Light shattered in incandescent white drops on the walls.

The drops passed through the shutters, rained crumbs of a world outside they didn't want to see. The heat would pool in the room, their skins brimming in salt and sweat, the sheets all crumpled up and crinkled under their feet.

Theon laid on his belly, sleepy, his breath slow and warm. His ass was still red, purple stained his back. Pearl stained his thighs, liquid and dense. He mumbled something and rolled over to Robb, searching for some space between his arms.

The onyx black hair would fall loosely over his shoulders.

Theon kissed Robb, foolishly and deeply, their tongues melting as their shafts hardened again. Robb caressed Theon’s lean hips, groped the firm ass and Theon let out a pleased chuckle.

“Leave it alone for a bit. - he bit Robb's rosy lips – Greedy.”

Robb's glance was mesmerized by Theon's lips. He grabbed him by the waist and pulled him close.

Theon stopped biting and instead kissed Robb's earlobe and neck, sucking gently, leaving deep bruises that bloomed in purple and red.

Robb rolled his eyes to the ceiling, half still in the afterglow, half feeling the tension rise again, pooling in his balls.

“ _C'était la baise la plus géniale de_....”

“Skip the French. - Theon chuckled – Tie me again.”

Robb's throat clenched in a strangled moan.

“Did you like it that much, uh?”, he asked, while his hands felt around for the ropes they had used. Red, as Theon was.

It made no sense, thought like that.

Nothing about Theon was red; he dripped black from his tar hair or his onyx eyes – his skin, as pale as a fucking corpse or the most delicate sea foam, just made it shine darker.

And yet, he was resplendent in red. He felt red to Robb's guts.

Like a sunset bleeding out in the sky, like overly ripe cherries, raining juice.

Theon pulled Robb close, Robb freed himself just to pin him down and tie his wrists to the bed’s bars and, twisting the knot and rope back, tying his neck too, trapping him. Theon could still breathe easily but barely move his neck and, as arousal would have got to him, his moaning and twisting would have surely turned the slight burn into warm pain.

Theon bent his legs, clenching around Robb's waist, pulling him close, rubbing against him.

He was still wet from cum and lube, dripping out of him and down his thighs, slow and turbid.

Robb lifted Theon's chin, while raising his hips, making sure to get the best angle to tease the entrance and rub on it, making Theon twitch. He grabbed him close and filled his mouth with his thick tongue, a bruising kiss, taking up Theon’s entire cavity, owning it.

When he entered, Theon just groaned, moaned, so softly, liquefied honey directly in Robb's mouth, eager to drink up every wet, needy sound Theon would let out.

Theon whined for more, widened his hips, rutted against Robb's cock as if to beg him, an inch more, then a push harder – the emptiness felt so oppressing inside him.

His mouth filled to the brink just made him feel emptier.

He took all of Robb's tongue, pushed further against him, rope burning his skin, bruises coming over, spilling red and purple on him. 

And when Robb's cock was all in, he arched his back, buried a scream in Robb's mouth, while Robb's hand went to his hair and pulled it too. 

The dust of the sunlight peeked and snowed over them, Robb pushing and Theon aiding the rhythm.

As he parted from the kiss, he chuckled, moving harder inside Theon's hole.

Theon's wrists hurt from the soft teeth of the rope, with the need growing thick in his veins, he moved his head further, to catch Robb's lips again and felt the rope pulling, forcing him back. The pressure on his throat shivered down his spine, stirring the heat pooling in his balls. His feet fell, his bones almost melted by pleasure, electricity riding his spine and cock. He twitched, writhed.

It felt so good to be nothing more than moans enjoyed in the glimmering morning. Sweat dripped from his thighs and face, Robb grabbed his ankles and thrust so deep, Theon almost scooted and felt the rope clenching his neck hard.

His lips quivered, mouth agape. Robb checked his color, almost scared for a moment, then, at the weakest, lewdest smile from Theon, he returned to thrusting in, hard and rough, staring enchanted at Theon's cheeks, pink with blood, and his cock, red with lust.

“You're so pretty...”, he whispered, kissing him.

Robb’s hands gripped Theon’s hips meanly as he sank his nails into them, tracing thin trenches of blood on the iliac crest – Theon twitched again, rutted, bit his lips and rolled his eyes to the ceiling – while Robb's lips went on the soft nipples and took one in the mouth, biting it, twisting it softly with his teeth. He got drunk on every shiver Theon let out.

“Y-you can do better.”, Theon whined, raising his eyebrows, but closing his eyes, hit after hit inside him.

Robb swallowed, unsure. The night before when they fucked, well and long – they left the living room about halfway to go to the bedroom and Theon did show him some interesting tools. But... what did he expect right then?

He flushed, slightly embarrassed, pretty confident that saying the wrong thing would have just spoiled the mood, so he just moved his mouth close to Theon's ear, while thrusting harder, hard enough that Theon barely could hear his own thoughts, and whispered, “Why don't you beg me for it?”

He could almost taste the grin widening on Theon's face right then, he surely could feel his cock twitching madly, wet in precum, pressed between their stomachs.

“Really now?”, a cocky smirk.

“I'd like to hear you ask me please.”, Robb murmured, moving a hand to Theon's mouth, thumb pressing on his bottom lip and lowering it to see the wet paradise of Theon's open, palpitating mouth.

Theon's heartbeat echoed like a drum.

Theon's tongue stuck out, he licked and sucked on Robb's thumb, bobbing his head on it, licking its tip. Robb could feel his cock hardening even more, sinking into the smouldering silk of Theon's hole, that sucked him in.

Robb sunk more fingers in – two then three, four, staring at Theon sucking them.

“Should I add them down?”

A whined moan.

Robb tried to remember what his previous boyfriend liked him to say. He was not very good at it. He felt like it required a certain anger and he had none for Theon.

Robb smirked, “Is it not enough? - he asked, thrusting in, tearing Theon more open, making his hips writhe and squirm in bliss – Do you want also my fingers in together with my cock?”

Theon nodded weakly, then felt the rope tightening around his neck as he moved.

His eyes were watery, desire gleaming dark.

Robb swallowed dry, and hoped to have guessed right, “Beg me.”

He exited Theon's hole, making him twitch and arch, desperate, squirming with his legs.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.”

Robb's put two fingers in, one at a time, and caressed the entrance and then slowly entered, but not fully, not filling. Just enough to brush Theon where it felt insanely good. Theon bit his lips to the pulp.

His dark locks were drenched in sweat, his skin glimmered in desire.

“Your hole is so loose right now. - he curled his fingers in – Once you start you really become so needy...”

“Please... - Theon's neck tensed, his face got redder but the corners of his lips painted a smile – Please...”

“Please what? - he asked, rough, gravelly-voiced, hoarse, pushing a third finger in, as Theon would buck himself against those, desperate – ‘Please, fuck me’?”

Theon nodded, quickly, lust pouring out in liquefied smouldering sounds, each lewder than the one before.

“Split open on my cock?”

“Yes, yes, please. - he almost screamed, his voice then breathless as the rope tightened as he moved – Shag me like a whore.”

“Is that what you are?”, Robb asked, pulling out his fingers and leaving Theon miserably empty and needy once again.

He thought about how the other boy moaned and winced. He was nowhere as pretty.

He felt coated and gritty like the pond waters and the mud filled with frogs and ashamed and bland.

Theon felt like a whole ocean of pleasure.

Robb grabbed Theon's face by the cheeks and stared at him, nailing their eyes together, while pushing his cock in again. He stared at Theon's face contorting and softening in bliss, inch after inch, his jaw tightening and his face getting pinker, while his eyes rolled to the ceiling. He slammed inside him, dragging out a scream.

“Is that what you are? A whore?”

“Yes, yes.. - he seemed to want to add something but he stopped, gasping, lips trembling from the blissful clench on his neck, gripping and dragging his arousal to the verge – Fuck, f...”

“Is this even enough to satisfy such a needy slut?”

Theon blinked.

Robb caught Theon's lips in his own and added the fingers to his cock, curling them, to make sure to rub on Theon's prostate while fucking him. The girth made Theon shiver and jerk, shook his nerves alight. 

He bit Robb's lips, arched his neck and enjoyed the new pressure of the tightened rope around him, while Robb's rhythm would fasten, get rougher and his fingers would press and mercilessly tease his sweet spot again.

His voice unravelled in the lewdest moans, saliva dancing down from his mouth, as his obscene look stuck to the ceiling. Robb wished Theon would have looked at him.

He was red. Deeper, under all that black, pulsing red.

 

*

 

She closed her eyes and let the smoke flood out of her nose, white and tender in the wind.

She hummed and then looked at her wrist watch, groaning.

She hoped she'd find him... she hoped they could have talked... about dad or mom or... anything, really, even chicken would have been fine.

As the heavy red door of the back entrance to the theatre opened, she threw the cigarette on the ground, squished it with her unlaced combat boots and tried to reprise in her mind what to say, with which teasing prank to break the ice, if to invite him for lunch... out of the room though, he didn't come.

A tall man with skin in the warmest shade of amber, dark hair, then a tiny girl with a cascade of dark hair in a soft braid. They were holding cases for strings.

“Excuse me... - her voice sounded confident but she felt awkward, as if moving to a foreigner territory - Do you know where I can find Theon Greyjoy?”

“Ah! - the man laughed – That would be nice to know.”

The petite girl glared at him, then smiled gently. She had eyes the color of chestnuts and plump, soft lips.

“Theon skipped practice in the morning. He said he'll reach us in the afternoon, though.”

The man rolled his eyes to the sky, then grumbled, “I get he's confident about his solos, but it would be kind of nice if he dragged his ass here so we can also try the goddamn quartet.”

“Oberyn! - the girl turned to him, almost scandalized – Theon probably just had an emergency. It's not nice to think badly of him without knowing what happened.”

He showed a charming smile and looked at her fondly, “Dear Jeyne, in my country they say: thinking ill is a sin, but often it's spot on.”

Jeyne shook her head and turned again to the woman, only then actually paying attention to her appearance. Her eyes went wide.

“You two... look so much alike...”

She smirked, “Asha Greyjoy. - even their grins looked similar – Older sister to the rehearsal ditcher.”

“Well, I guess we can rule out family emergency.”, Oberyn mumbled.

Jeyne handed her hand to shake Asha's, but she instead lifted it, while bowing, and kissed it, way too charmingly for Jeyne's knees to resist jiggling.

“I sort of need to talk to him about one family emergency. - Asha confessed, glancing at Oberyn and then again at Jeyne, straight in her eyes – But I feel like not finding him was a blessing, after all.”

Jeyne gave a tilted, awkward smile and took her hand back, all too quickly, like an elastic band suddenly pulling back.

“He'll be here by three, you can eat something close to here and...”

Oberyn glanced at both and curled his lips up, “Where are your manners, Jeyne? Miss Asha can have lunch with us, if she pleases.”

Asha raised an eyebrow, pleased, but checked Jeyne's expression.

“If I'm not imposing...”

Jeyne sank her face a bit in her coat, as if she wanted to avoid having to reply, and Oberyn took care of granting how absolutely ecstatic they were of her presence.

“So... have you been working with my baby brother for a long time?”

Jeyne's eyes shone so bright that Asha felt a sting of jealousy. 

“Since two years now, he's such a brilliant musician. He plays so magically. - she held tight her case – Playing with him is such a wonderful experience and...”

Oberyn shook his head, “I guess, I mean, it's not like you're also working next to the best violinist in the country...”

Jeyne smiled, “Of course it's the same with you, Oberyn! But it's not your brother here now.”

“I heard you'll be playing some quartet for the next concert...”, Asha dared to interrupt.

Jeyne nodded, excited, “It made me so happy... we'll have a quintet too, a Boccherini one! Even if, - her eyes got hesitant and fearful – Well, Theon was very upset with the choice of the double-bassist.”

“Theon needs to stop being such a primadonna. - Oberyn pointed out and Asha couldn't deny it – He can't play both the cello and double-bass in the same piece at the same time. He has solos for both, he can come to terms with the human limits of multitasking and his lack of the gift of ubiquity.”

Jeyne frowned and moved her hand to Asha's arm, as if she were supposed to be upset by that obvious comment. “Don't let it get to you. Oberyn is really charming usually, he's just very fatherly with Theon. - then she lowered her voice – I think he reminds him of his younger self.”

“I can hear you, little snake.”

She laughed, “Sorry, sorry! - her smile was so sweet Asha felt nausea knotting her stomach in an unfairly tight knot – But that's not the problem, and you know it: simply, Bolton is a disaster. Changing the program would have been a better idea than letting him play.”

“I hate to repeat myself. - Oberyn lied – But Theon has to learn he can't do all he wants. And that sometimes means we have to work next to possibly sadistic psychopaths with the delicate fingers of a butcher and who are possibly also color-blind.”

“I just think he likes pink. - Jeyne admitted – And I can't really blame Theon. I still wonder how he got a part.”

“You don't have to look far. - Oberyn chuckled – His father wanted him there and, there he was, of course. Don't let it influence our performance, Theon's little scene should have sufficed for all of us.”

Asha frowned, “He made a scene?”

Her brother didn't take anything seriously, usually. His personality was mostly consisted of snarky comments and a forked tongue.

Jeyne looked to the pavement. Her hand was still on Asha's arm, she had probably forgotten to move it away but Asha found it too cute and surely didn't mind.

“That guy... he's a bit creepy. He... - she looked away, swallowed – He was really straight-forward about certain things he'd like to do with me.”

Oberyn looked at both of them, curious to see if Jeyne would have disclosed the other reason, after common sense and survival instinct, for her lack of interest towards the man.

“Theon has been angry at him ever since.”

Asha blinked and only then moved away from the girl's hand. Apparently also Jeyne forgot it was there, as she stiffened noticing it.

“I didn't realize you and my brother...”

“Oh no! No! - she replied a bit too quickly to Oberyn's amusement – Theon is... he's just very protective of me.”

Oberyn turned to Asha, confused. Didn't the sister know of Theon's... predilections when it came to partners? As he looked at them, he noticed with a certain cheer how Jeyne was fixing a curl behind her ear, nervously, gently, and fumbling, all red in the face.

Theon's sister smiled at her, now again charming and confident, with a naughty gleam in her eyes.

“I would be too, you do inspire a certain protectiveness.”

She blinked, then sucked her lips, washing slightly away from lipstick and, to those only half stained lips, Asha's glance got chained to. The wetness of a pulsing pink showing through the sombre brown made her wish she could smear it all away, getting her lips naked under the sunlight. Under her own.

Jeyne was unsure of what to reply, she just trembled like a leaf, bathing in the sandalwood aroma and in the outrageously wide confidence that woman seemed to have.

Jeyne noticed a bit too late how long they stared at each other, lost in a moment that couldn't make sense.

 

*

 

Theon rolled, pulling the blankets around him and tacoing his whole body up to above the head. Robb laughed, “You could like... leave me some.”

Theon turned slightly, but only part of his face was visible through the blankets.

He tilted an eyebrow, “You can go home, if you're that cold?”

His voice tasted like honey but cut like a razor.

Robb's smile tilted, “Ah... actually, I...”

Theon blinked and shelled himself out of the blanket, slowly. Robb stared at the marks he had left on the pale body: the signs of his teeth and mouth – the pink, the purple, the ripped red. They all looked like colors out of a painting on him.

“I usually am kinder, sorry. - Theon mumbled – You must be starving.”

Robb smiled, confused, “A bit.”

Theon looked at the clock.

“I have to get out of here before three o'clock, but you have time to eat something while I prepare.”

“Are you going to rehearsal?”

“Yup. - Theon moved down from the bed and opened his wardrobe that looked almost crazily dichotomist: on one side all suits and silky shirts, on the other leather jackets and band shirts – We have this useless charity thing next week. - he yawned, looked cute, almost soft – Only basic stuff, you know? Bach, Brahms, Dvorak...”

Robb nodded slowly, sucking his lips.

Theon laughed.

“You're kinda funny. - he smiled, smirking with malice and tenderness altogether, leaning next to his wardrobe – You don't like music a lot, do you?”

Robb sighed then let out a weird sound, “I know, right? It seems like I'm the only human being to not find it like oxygen.”

“I like that.”

“Shouldn't you be outraged by it?”, Robb tilted an eyebrow.

Theon grinned, smug, “I like being outraged.”

Robb blinked, perplexed.

“Peculiar, no offence.”

Theon snorted, “None taken. - he caressed his wrists, bending them and massaging them – I just don't like being bored.”

“That's... sad?”

“Only if you let it be. - Theon chuckled – I have a no sadness policy.”

“Are there feelings you allow yourself then?”, Robb asked, smiling nervously, as he sat up.

Theon seemed to think, “Arousal, anger, dedication.. to music...”

Robb swallowed, gulping nervously. He stared at Theon's ass, at the reddish sign his hand left on the cheek, on the marks of his teeth over it.

And he wondered if he was gonna be that: a mark like the one he had before of another night of another man of another affair.

Signs of cheap pasts and unimportant restless evenings would collect and coagulate on Theon's skin, constellations of the void he painted himself with.

A smug chuckle.

“Do you like what you see?”

Robb breathed out and balanced himself on his elbows, staring at him, dark-eyed with jealousy and desire.

“I'd rather it be all by me.”

Or to himself, rather.

Theon chuckled, “I have to shower, go eat something.”

“When can I see you again?”

Theon frowned, blinked, shrugged.

“I don't know, when you feel like it?”

“Tonight?”, Robb proposed, suggested, daring, smiling bright.

Theon stared at him, “A bit soon, but why not? if you feel like it. I'm not one to deny it.”

“...is it that easy?”, Robb blinked, a tiny bit too happy a tiny bit too hopeful.

Theon snorted, “It's sex, how complicated should it be?”

Robb felt his stomach sink down.

It fell from where it was supposed to be, fell through his bones and squished onto the ground. But silence substituted it quickly with stones and cement and powerlessness.

Theon seemed to notice something was wrong. He smiled nicely, tenderly, almost, with the naughty after taste Robb now knew he always had.

He came to him and moved on all fours on the bed, moving towards Robb, planting his knees around his thighs and his hands between Robb's hips and his arms, tilting his head, as to invite him for a kiss. He smiled, before, though, spoke softly and yet lustful, seductive, lecherous and mellifluous like murky wine, turbid and addictive like the sweetest taste it leaves in your mouth.

“What's wrong? - his eyes shone dark – Are you really jealous?”

“Would you accept me being?”

“I don't like possessiveness per sé, but it makes for good angry sex.”, he admitted, his tilted sharp grin like a razor through Robb's heart.

During sex, he felt in control, even of Theon and then? Right out extinguished and soft, he was as powerless as a child.

He was the one with the ropes on.

“What's wrong?”, Theon asked.

“I, umh... well, - a lie, a good one and maybe on that didn't make it clear how much he would have hoped for more – I think we should decide some rules.”

Theon seemed impressed.

“Good point. - he nodded – Umh, I don't do relationship stuff, so no cinema, dinner, dates, no travels. We fuck here, not at your place, not at hotels. Outside is fine though. - he kept counting on his fingers up and down while thinking and Robb could just think he looked so pretty tearing his heart out – I don't do gross stuff: watersports, scat and all of that...”

“...I am not sure what those are even.”

Theon frowned, “Excuse me?”

“Well, I... I mean until roping you and that stuff... one can guess, but... I don't have that much experience.”

Theon swallowed hard, “This is the type of information you disclose before breath play, sir.”

But Robb made a small, tender smile, “I...know how to tie necks without it being too tight unless one pulls. - he gulped slowly at feeling Theon's thumb brush his hip – I worked with animals in my family's farm.”

Theon seemed less angry, more softened, but didn't let it go. He commented, less dry, “It's still not safe at all. Next time, read about it, check a tutorial, let me do it, but if you don't know how something works, tell it, clear?”

“...do you do this often?”

“Breath play?”

“Letting people do those controlling things to you.”

“It's the only thing people can do to me.”, he chuckled.

And he was right, Robb could see it: Theon was not controllable. He was absolutely independent. Submission started and ended in bed and any domination was just that.

People couldn't hurt someone like that.

Theon raised an eyebrow, “You _are_ jealous.”

Robb lowered his look, then groaned, “Any other rule?”

“If you will want to go raw with me, but you fuck also someone else, wear a condom with them.”

Robb realized just then he didn't feel like fucking someone else.

“How do you know if I do or lie?”

Theon raised his eyebrows, amused, and bent closer to Robb's face, a bit too close.

His lips moved slowly. They were still wet and cut.

“You're so easy to read...”

Robb moved his hands and threw Theon on the bed, moving over him, grabbing his wrists together.

His jaw clenched. His lips were swollen. His stubble peeking through.

Theon breathed out, “I don't do... romance. We can keep it at neighbours with benefits or say goodbye now. - he said it so softly that Robb just felt worse, actually invisible – It's your choice.”

And he should have said goodbye.

And he should have left.

But something in the way Theon looked at him magnetized him all back.

He was sweet as the undertow, stubborn as the tides. His lips were like salt on his wounds, and against his skin, it felt like that mouth would gobble on his heart and gut his mind open.

Theon's hand caressed Robb's cheek and he moved in for a kiss, pushing his tongue through, taking over his senses and making him paralyzed in awe. He was a thunderstorm over the bluest stormy sea.

Robb pushed through, forced Theon to sink in the mattress, pushing his tongue down his throat, making him full to the brink and his moans trapped and muffled.

He parted all of a sudden, leaving Theon panting, agape and craving more.

“What if I wanted to be the only one anyway? - Robb asked, swallowing, staring at Theon with his eyes now of a raw, harsh blue – Even without romance.”

Theon's lips turned up, jeering, while he frowned.

 

*

 

“I know, I know, I know! - Theon said, quickly. He had just entered as he found himself in front of Oberyn – I am a disgrace and should learn to be punctual.”

Oberyn raised an eyebrow, “You would take away from an old man even the pleasure of scolding the youth?”

“Oh, Oby. - Theon gave a small smile and kissed his stubbly cheek – You'll always be a dilf to me.”

“You know, for someone with such huge commitment issues, you do joke a lot about dilfs and milfs.”

“I don't joke. – he provoked him with a wink – Also, it's ‘I'd like to fuck’ not ‘I'd like to marry and then adopt the kids of’.”

“I see your point. - he admitted, with a low chuckle – We met your sister today.”

Theon blinked, “Asha?”

“You have more than one?”

“Very funny. - Theon groaned, defeated – Did she say what she wanted?”

“Something about your mom. - Oberyn mumbled – You should call her, she looked worried.”  
“It's the first time you saw her, don't act like you know all her repertoire of fakely afflicted sibling expressions.”

“Fakely? - Oberyn didn't seem amused, even if he scoffed – That girl was worried sick, she just hid it well, but the smirk must be the family mask.”

“There are things you don't know. - Theon warned, annoyed – Not everyone has the family you have. Have you ever seen her or my father sitting here? No? There's a reason.”

The violinist frowned. His eyes went to Theon's cello case and then to his own. He found funny how Theon's instrument was heavier, as almost to match the baggage.

“Maybe it's your mother who wants to come? - he suggested, with a little smile – I bet she'd like to see the show.”

Theon looked away, pained.

“I doubt.”

“One can forget a lot, but not music. - he said, breathing in the theatre's sweet air – That's a thing that gets carved into our ribs and spine. It's our brand.”

Theon rolled his eyes, “There he comes, the hopeless romantic...”

Oberyn shook his head a bit to the sides, then nodded, chuffed and pleased, “Oh, well, I admit I'd like to see her again.”

Theon smirked, weakly, almost as a reflex.

Maybe Oberyn was right. It was a bit of a mask, a thick wax mask.

But it was also, after a while, bitterness becomes such a familiar part of you that it becomes undistinguishable from sweetness, and so, somehow, one reacts at both the same way.

“I met another romantic, you know?”

Oberyn's ears moved in interest and he smiled, seemingly harmless and innocent, but naughty underneath, like one of those old cats who know their owners a bit too well.

“The cute neighbour?”

“Perhaps. - Theon sucked his lips, his pointy canine showing, trying to stop a smile – He was... nice.”

“Uh, don't tell me it made you consider romanticism.”

“Nah. - Theon shook his head, and the thought away, like snow from a tree branch – No, no. Me? I wouldn't even know where to start.”

“Usually finding someone nice is a start?”, Oberyn suggested.

Theon gave him an oblique glance.

“He's cute... hot. - he said, sitting on a chair, observing the flutists as they rehearsed their pieces, and waiting for Oberyn to sit next to him, his voice got hoarse and pleasantly warm as he remembered the sensation of his scorching kisses – Red head, strong arms, he has a bit of a belly, not those... annoyingly drawn-like v-lines, you know?”

“Big cock?”

“Big cock.”

Oberyn snorted, shaking his head “You're so shallow.”

“I'm a kiddie pool.”

“What's his personality like?”

Theon smiled, inadvertently, “He's... possessive.”

“That's not good.”

“It is if it's 'I want to be so good you can't name another fuck better than this one' possessive and not 'I'll be outside of your door at 3am' possessive. - Theon defended, then lowered his eyes – He's sweet. I think he's just... you know, a bit of a country boy. He's not used to... tinder stuff.”

Oberyn glanced at him, “Theon, you're way more promiscuous than the average tinder user.”

A glare.

“Maybe so. - he shrugged – Look, he's... he speaks French, does something... about... geography, I think? He said something about a farm...”

“...you know? Normally, I'd make a comment about how little attention you paid to this guy, but I remembered it's you and not a normal person, so I'm even impressed you know this much.”

“How cold and cruel.”

“I thought you liked cold and cruel.”

“I like wicked and prone to punishing me if I've been bad. - Theon corrected him, then he got dreamy-eyed – He said he's okay with just fucking, though.”

Oberyn looked at their colleagues, almost as if he didn't want to know how honest Theon's answer was going to be to the next question.

“But you know he probably wants more?”

“Does it matter? - he shrugged – I made it clear it's going to be just sex.”

Oberyn sighed, then caressed with his thumb his ring finger.

“He sounds a bit different from your usual type, though.”

The voice echoed in Theon's ear.

“...that doesn't mean anything.”, he hissed, defensively.

Oberyn's lips curled again.

 

*

 

Jeyne moved close to him, bambi-eyed and shyly graceful, as Theon was bent to put his cello back in the case. She was wearing the request smile.

Theon shook his head, fondly – Jeyne was really the young sister he never had. It was such a nice sensation to not be constantly the weakest, the less considered, the less estimated. To have some authority, some wise vibe, some...

“What do you need, Jey?”

She fumbled and flinched a bit, she fidgeted with her fingers nervously, letting her hips sway as she tried to find the courage to speak up.

“So... your sister.”

Theon raised an eyebrow, then slowly, his head, looking at Jeyne in the eyes.

“Yes?”

“Does she... - Jeyne sucked her lips - ...you know?”

Theon's perplexed expression intensified as he rose up from the chair and held the cello case up, “Pretty sure her look tells it all. - he groaned – But you can do better.”

“She seemed nice?”, Jeyne insisted, following him.

She had a pretty summer dress, all white on. It made her look so innocent and small.

Theon thought about her in his sister's hands, around her fingers, under her tongue.

“You can do better. - he almost roared, low-voiced – She fucks around but never sticks.”

Jeyne breathed out, “She's your sister, after all.”

Theon turned, slightly outraged, “I mean... it's true, but should you say it this bluntly?”

“Do you have stuff to do tonight?”

I have someone who should do me, he thought, quickly, but decided to discard the answer.

“Not really, I mean, nothing important, why?”

“Me and Oberyn were thinking maybe we could get some wine at your place? Chat a bit?”

Theon let out a wrinkled groan.

Oberyn was, well, not married, but he had three daughters living with him, and Jeyne lived with some terrible flatmates who never allowed her to have people over. When they wanted to have drinks it was always or at Theon's or outside and, well, it was that time of the month when you have to make ends meet.

He was a bit bitter over postponing the fuck, though.

“Fine. - he mumbled – But I'm not also feeding you.”

“How rude. - Oberyn swung in – You'd leave a gracious damsel all hungry?”

Theon smirked, “At least I don't send her to ask things for me, Oberyn.”

“You're weak to her. It's too easy.”, he said, passing an arm around Theon's shoulders and pulling him close.

“Very funny.”

“You should introduce us to the pretty guy.”

“Which pretty guy?”, Jeyne blinked.

“Theon has a new not-boyfriend. - Oberyn smirked – A red-head, apparently. - then he glanced at Theon – Cute, isn't it?”

Jeyne moved to Theon and held his arm, “Why didn't you tell me anything.”

“It's just sex, Jey. - he complained, exasperated – I'm not looking for a serious thing, you know that.”

“Is he the hot neighbour?”

“...maybe.”

“Can we see him?”

“He's not a cat, Jey. - he scoffed, trying to hid a certain shy annoyance – We're just... sex. You know what I think of commitment.”

“And yet you don't want me to take a tour down your sister's junglebook.”

Oberyn snorted, “... then I was right, she's your type.”

“Of course she's my type! - Jeyne sighed – It's since I saw Theon that I thought it was such a waste someone so handsome was born a man.”

“...geez, thanks.”

She seemed to ignore him, “She's like the gods decided I was right and sent her to me.”

“...the power of boobs, uh. - Theon shook his head to send away the thought – Look, Asha is not going to call back or stuff, if you want to do it, know you're signing up for my shitty commitment issues just with a vagina instead of a cock.”

“Being a lesbian, that's...kind of an important factor, you know?”

“I mean that someone who believes in true love shouldn't date a Greyjoy.”

Oberyn looked amused with his two younger colleagues.

“It's like hearing Nym and Tyene bicker as kids...”

Theon brushed off the comment, “You shouldn't go out with Asha, she's not good for you and I'm not good for Robb.”

“...so you remember his name, uh.”

“Shut up.”

 

 


	3. Glass bridal veil

**3\. Glass bridal veil**

* * *

 

 

_Strike me down, give me everything you've got._

_Strike me down, I'll be everything I'm not._

* * *

 

 

Asha's knuckles brushed softly over Theon's door, her fingertips on the handle.

She had the keys. Her spare couple she managed to get last time they were on decent terms. It would have been so easy to enter, to invade his space, his will, to simply be there as he'd return...

She sighed and figured she'd just leave. 

Her palms caressed the wood.

“I miss you, fucktard...”, she whispered, almost weakly.

Almost.

Because she couldn't afford weakness. She couldn't afford the space and time to crumble.

Because nobody ever sustained stuff or believed or worked when she didn't firmly, fully, handle it and wear it on her shoulders.

And yet her titanic shoulders were not as broad as she would have needed them to be.

“May I help you?”

Asha turned and saw him. Auburn hair, pretty face, nicely built. Not as cute as the adorable petite violinist, but she had a couple of ideas of how he could have helped her.

“Well, honey, giving cart blanche to me can be quite dangerous.”

He stepped back and let out a low, uncomfortable giggle, “I umh... didn't mean that.”

“Oh. - she puckered her lips, then looked at Theon's door and raised her eyebrows – Oh. You're a friend of _my_ Theon.”

Robb nodded. He stared at her.

She looked a lot like Theon, minus his thick, lecherous, charm and that fragile vulnerability he showed just in the shadows.

She seemed blunter, even the edge of her razor smirk was less sharp.

“I suppose so.”

Asha grinned, her eyes half-lidded, “ _That_ kind of friend?”

Robb swallowed, clenched his fists.

“I might be.”

“He has good taste then. - she commented, letting her eyes scroll through him, head to toe and then again up – The last one I met wasn't half as cute, but then again, given his... habits, there have probably been three hundred sixty-five in between.”

“Well. - Robb breathed in, blinking – Aren't you encouraging.”

She smirked, “I'm Asha, Theon's...”

“Older sister, I know.”

She blinked, surprised. A weird gleam, almost distorted happiness shone in her eyes.  
“Has he talked about me?”

Robb swallowed, unsure of how or if to break that light.

“You look like him a lot, you're older but not that much and... I can spot a younger sibling when I see one.”

She showed a weak, tired, paper thin smile, “He's a bit of the youngest kid syndrome walking around.”

“I'm an oldest one, so. - he admitted, offering his hand – Robb.”

She took it and shook it.

“But I mean it, when I say you're cute. - she winked, flirty, to hide the sadness – If you ever want to let me join.”

She joked, between a cruel jape and the exorcism of her need to have him back, her brother, her little baby brother, who'd fuck with strangers but not answer her calls. Was she supposed to really flirt with his friend with benefits to get some of his attention?

Regardless, Robb didn't catch she was joking. Probably the guy was a tad bit too serious, he just stiffened.

Robb seemed now more embarrassed than before, “I'm not really...”

“Bi? - Asha let out a willingly too loud whine for her to be serious – There is no justice in this world.”

“I'm not really available, anyway.”, he cut her off, bluntly.

Asha seemed confused.

Her brother did start something serious? More than a jape or a fling? Or was that boy as dumb as a seal?

“I didn't imagine you were...”

“May I help you concerning Theon?”, Robb asked, firmly.

He was protective, Asha figured.

Even too much, already about to doubt her or growl at her like an overly zealous dog; maybe that's what Theon liked about him, she thought, since he never had that: someone who'd protect him truly and fully, loving him enough to oppose intruders and harm.

Their mother tried, of course.

Quite dedicatedly.

She was bold and furious with their father, but softer with her other children, maybe because she knew she didn't care for them as much as for Theon, or maybe because she had recognized in the three the man she had married by her choice and how can one blame someone for being their father's children?

Asha liked to consider herself her daughter, more than his, and her mother seemed to have thought so too, but Asha was never easy to deal with.

Mothers and daughters, they say, they never get along – something grows rotten and competitive between them, without the narcissistic pride fathers have for their sons. But Asha always figured maybe they were a bit too similar.

… but Theon... Theon was not like anyone else.

A bit like their uncle, the only decent one, sure, but mostly in his latter habits – fun with drinks, girls, music – but his soul, so delicate and vivid, like a kaleidoscope in the hands of a toddler... that was unique. And their mother must have had found in him something good, special, like he was not like her husband, nor like her, but like someone new and all good, and yet, someone who belonged to her, came from her loins and ribs and it had her eyes.

He always had her eyes.

She envied those.

She just got her heart.

“I need to speak to him about... - she gulped down, dryly, her eyes got ludic and her eyelids fluttered the sadness away – Family business. Quite urgently, actually.”

Robb seemed then to become quite serious, his jaw clenched, as if he had swallowed the leftover pain of a punch in the stomach, and nodded.

“I'll tell him you came.”

“You'll meet soon?”

“Tonight, possibly.”

“Possibly? - she cocked her head and stared at him, frowning, - My brother is... quite something to handle.”

That seemed to hurt him somehow. Like she cut a wound open and burning all over again.

Robb raised an eyebrow, “And?”

“You look like a nice lad, but don't get your hopes up.”

Asha clearly said it to be somewhat wise, comforting even, useful, but Robb didn't seem to see it that way. He just looked at her in a mixture of annoyance and tension.

“I know as older siblings, sometimes... - he looked around, away, at the door – We tend to want to protect our siblings, to shield them, but I wouldn't appreciate such an inquisitive third degree and neither would you, I'm sure. -he looked at her, then, directly, softly – Theon can handle himself.”

“That's a lie.”

Robb shrugged, “Then he can handle me. Anyway, he's an adult.”

“I wouldn't baby him if he didn't need me to.”

“At the end of the day, though, you don't seem to have the keys. - Robb observed – So, maybe, you're invading too much.”

“What would you know of that?”

Right.

What would he know.

Sansa lost her virginity to a prick, sinking her nails into him and crying for him to stop, and he didn't know, because she didn't tell him, because he hated that blond, spoiled prick from day one and kept judging him and complaining until she stopped speaking.

Jon used to cut and all of his observing and checking and snooping around, even trying to force him to talk, lead to nothing.

Bran fell. Bran fell. That was his fault too. He should have been more prudent, he should have checked him once again, make sure he was not going too fast on the horse, check again his reins, they seemed okay, they were okay until they were not and he fell and he cried and it was his fault, all his fault, once again.

He could have avoided all of that, if he had just...

Sansa never blamed him, she encouraged him to apply for a London job. Jon never resented him, he kept texting him song lyrics of his new band. Bran never stopped loving him, he held onto him so tightly.

He had failed to protect them. And he would have failed with Arya and Rickon too, for sure.

Guilt burned through him, as he went away, and yet he knew he had to, and more importantly... he knew he was useless, after all. He couldn't have been what they wanted him to be, who they needed him to be.

Pretending to be perfect is a cold, greasy wax mask, on the face.

“I'll tell him you came. - he murmured, sweetly – I promise you I will.”

She looked at him and wondered who he reminded her of.

 

*

 

Oberyn rose his glass and chanted, “To the great disaster we're all heading towards!”

Theon snorted, sour, “Can't believe Roose Bolton picked himself to conduct the night.”

Jeyne sighed, “He's not bad, he's just...”

“The anal retentiveness poster child?”, Oberyn suggested.

“Poster centenary vampire, you mean.”, Theon chuckled.

“You two when tipsy get so mean... - she stole the bottle of wine from Theon's hand and poured some for herself – The only real issue is his son.”

Theon let out an annoyed scoff, “Oh, you think? He was such a disaster at rehearsal, I thought my ears were about to resign and fall off.”

Oberyn sighed and massaged his temples, “My balls did resign and fall off. - he mumbled, gaining a bad look from Jeyne – What?”

Jeyne raised her eyebrows, “Well, you seemed quite fine with his existence this afternoon.”

“I'm saying we should accept reality, not that we shouldn't complain about it. - he groaned – I dislike this injustice as much as you do, but we have to pick which battles to fight and for which to just make snarky comments while getting drunk.”

“Old man, wise words. - Theon said, stealing back the bottle and pouring red in his glass – I never thought I'd say it, but I do miss the years with Tywin Lannister's administration.”

“What are we reduced to... - Oberyn sighed – Missing the old man and the broom up his ass.”

Theon cocked a brow up, “I thought you liked that kinda thing.”

“Not metaphorically. - Oberyn winked, then frowned – We should ask for a new conductor.”

“Or a new double-bass.”, Theon suggested.

“Drop the double-bass idea, Theon. - Oberyn glanced at him. Looking scorching icy and smouldering cold – You know it's useless, you need to focus on the cello.”

Theon chugged down another glass of wine, his eyelids getting heavy.

“Yeah, that must be easy to say for you.”

Jeyne looked at them, not understanding. She was about to ask, when a ring shook her.

She stiffened.

Theon rose and went to the door, looked from the peephole and saw him. He normally wouldn't have opened it, but something in those dire blue eyes forced him to.

The fragility, the need, he read into it.

“Robb? - he looked at him, concerned – You look like someone munched on you and spat you out, what's wrong?”

Jeyne stared at him, bending.

“Well, fuck.”, she let out.

The boy was damn cute, to start with, and not just in the sense of handsome – he looked fresh, bright, even a bit shy. Not Theon's usual type. Not a grindr date for sure.

And Theon? Theon looked worried and sweet and  _involved_ . 

He looked like he cared? And the boy looked honestly like... something more? And not a bad person at all for him?

Oberyn blinked, “Well, fuck indeed.”, he mumbled.

He was more focused on his arms, though.

Theon turned to them and so did Robb, confused. Theon groaned, “Can you not?”

Jeyne stood up from the sofa and went to him, “Jeyne, Jeyne Poole. And you are?”

Robb blinked, caught aback, “Ahm, Robb Stark, nice to meet you.”

Jeyne smiled wide, “You were Theon's date tonight, right? We're so, so, so mortified you had to change your plans, aren’t we, Oberyn? - she looked at Oberyn, who nodded, and then turned to him again – Why don't you join us? For a bit of wine and talk?”

Robb looked at Theon, trying to guess what he'd think of it, but Theon was just biting his lips, embarrassed.

“It's all fine. - Robb smiled, softly, looking at Theon – I do not plan to intrude. I just... - he swallowed – Your sister, she came to meet you and she looked pretty worried, so...”

Theon snapped.

His grin turned sharp, “Oh, a new member of the club ‘let's invade Theon's privacy and give him the family talk’. - he looked at Oberyn, which surprised Jeyne – You three sure would get along.”

Robb's hand moved and caught Theon's wrist.

He was not forceful, just utmost kind, in a weird way, like he couldn't stop himself from touching Theon, to keep him close.

“It's not that, I promise. - he murmured – But I did grant her I would have told you. And I can't really blame people for wanting to see you, can _I_?”

And he smiled sweetly, chuckling as to make fun of himself, letting his thumb brush on Theon's wrist.

Theon blinked, realizing that was not jealousy or forcefulness from Robb, he was not trying to make him feel guilty about his boundaries or appointments; that was a mere, simple, heart-on-the-sleeve declaration. Something honest, and crystalline, and sharp in its sincerity, that someone like Robb, as transparent as he was, apparently, was not able to hide. Theon then felt something crack inside him.

… did someone _need_ him?

Jeyne let out a little, strangled whine as she realized what Robb had implied too, while Oberyn nodded to himself, almost impressed.

Theon stared at his wrist, at Robb's hand – pale, covered in tan freckles and delicate veins, with pointy bones showing and the delicate touch, Robb's thumb caressed him as if he could break apart and Theon didn't remember being touched like that in a long time.

“Well. - he shrugged – I guess, one shouldn't be blamed for... something so inevitable. - he sighed dramatically – I am, after all, quite the delight.”

“You are...”, Robb agreed.

Jeyne and Oberyn exchanged a look, as the other two stared at each other for a bit longer, small smiles peeking through their lips, almost shy.

“I should go now...”, Robb murmured, almost cursing himself.

Oberyn stepped close, “Oh, no, no! - he turned to Theon, pulled him by the shoulders – We do need a... hm, outsider, for an opinion.”

Theon stared at him, “We what.”

Oberyn whispered back, “When will you stop sabotaging yourself?”

Jeyne set her arm around Robb's and smiled, “You should totally give us an opinion on the symphonies we will perform at the concert.”

Robb looked at her almost panicking, sure he was stepping somehow where he shouldn't. But when he looked at Theon, he didn't seem to actually mind, more, he seemed, as hesitant as he was - both a little scared, neither one prepared.

He sat on the sofa and Theon took place next to him, he mumbled just a quick “sorry”, as if Robb was supposed to mind, instead of feeling fireworks piercing his stomach with light.

He looked at the thin, black turtleneck that Theon was wearing, at the delicate, harmonious, way he looked, almost as if he was music himself.

Theon offered him a glass of wine and Robb took his hand in his own, their fingers brushing, as he grabbed it.

He meant it to soothe Theon, but he just flinched, almost dropping it.

Robb took it, though.

Jeyne looked at Theon and Oberyn and then turned to Robb.

“So, Robb, what is it that you do...?”

“I'm a historian.”

“Oh, a bookworm! - Oberyn smiled wide – Which period do you specialize in?”

“Ah. - he swallowed – Actually, more than chronological, my specialization concerns cultural-social themes like popular and high culture or social changes.”

“That's charming.”, Oberyn lied, or he seemed to.

“I'm working on... - Robb made the effort to avoid looking at Theon – On an essay concerning the perception of bodily autonomy and disability through the centuries.”

Oberyn chuckled, “Well, wouldn't Tyrion love that.”

Theon rolled his eyes, moving closer to Robb and brushing his thigh with his hand, protectively but almost unaware.

Robb frowned, “Is he a colleague of yours?”

“A conductor. - Theon replied, without staring at Robb, but still holding him – He's achondroplasic.”

“Oh.”, Robb frowned.

“You see? - Theon snorted to Jeyne – He also finds funny the idea of him conducting.”

Robb stiffened, “No, I don't.”

Theon blinked, surprised. He swallowed slowly.

Theon was used to people finding his humour... distasteful. Or offensive. He was the type of guy to snort at deaths on TV shows. 

But usually he'd chuckle and shake his head, not look sorry. But this time he did look sorry, not for the content, of course, but that he spoke, that the words he had said seemed to have offended him, to have hurt him.

Robb lowered his eyes, swallowed dry.

He turned to Oberyn and Theon felt like he had drowned, all of a sudden. Earth left his feet, the sofa disappeared and he was in the void with nothing to hold him up.

“I'm writing the essay for my brother. - he said, briefly, then he returned to look at Theon – You couldn't have known, I'm sorry.”

Theon's look softened and he moved a bit closer, so their hips touched and he smiled so sweetly and stared at Robb with such big eyes. Robb recognized that look, the look of a baby boy sorry about breaking a toy, desperate to fix it, unsure of how to say sorry. Because they didn't teach him how to yet.

“It was a ill joke...”, Theon said swallowing, mortified.

He was still smirking but it looked more like he needed to be reassured there was nothing wrong or that he could still be smiling, instead of him being in a good mood or making light of it; Robb realized Theon was afraid. Afraid to ruin things with him, for some reason.

Maybe he also liked him a bit after all.

“You really couldn't have known. - he smiled, putting then his own hand on Theon's knee – And I'm sure you didn't mean it that way, I just got startled because it’s a naked nerve.”

“I-”

“My sense of humour... - Robb smiled, awkward – It is a bit dry at times.”

“I'm already quite the jester on my own. - Theon observed, half-lidded, suggestive – Maybe it's better if someone makes me choke sometimes... - he smirked, curled his lips – On my words, I mean.”

Robb was not sure how Theon decided flirting was the best way to make sure he was forgiven, that everything was okay. Robb wished he could have had a colder reaction, perhaps, but those eyes, suddenly so warm, and those words, he wanted so much to hear, crept their way through his loins. Robb nodded slowly and swallowed.

May have Bran forgiven him for his lack of skill to hold a grudge, the flesh was weak and his heart even more...

Jeyne turned to Oberyn as if she needed to scream.

Oberyn moved and went to the other side of Robb, putting an arm around his shoulders, and said, “Theon didn't mean any harm. He's just... - he moved a hand under Robb's chin, lifting it – Quite indelicate.”

Theon fried him with a glare.

Robb blinked, then stared at him, confused.

“My chin was comfortable at the height it was at before.”

Oberyn gave an amused look, “That's unfortunate...”

Robb seemed to stiffen but, as he glanced back, and saw Theon's glance, he understood Oberyn was not playing with him as much as with Theon. And Theon seemed... quite jealous.

Robb hinted a smile and Theon looked away, sipping from his glass.

 

*

 

“I'm... sorry if I invaded your privacy with your sister.”, Robb murmured.

Oberyn had left an hour ago, when Jeyne collapsed on the sofa, snoring a bit too loud for her petite, tiny frame. She looked like a mouse, but made the sounds of a bison.

Robb found it tender.

She was about Sansa's age, but she quite looked like Arya. Just, her eyes were brown.

Theon was next to him, looking at her fondly, gently. He was not sure he had ever seen him looking at someone like that.

Theon smiled, shook his head, turning towards Robb once again, “I do tend to avoid nuisances, but you couldn't have known she was one.”

Robb chuckled, “I have the sensation sometimes, I was too for my siblings.”

Theon's fingers caressed the thin, glass rim of the wine glass, he stared at Robb, mesmerized. 

“You love them a lot... - he mumbled, almost confused by it – Like, awfully a lot.”

Robb laughed, embarrassed, and scratched his nape, hiding his eyes a bit, looking away. He felt the wine raising to his head, while his blood went south.

“Well, there’s five of them so, the choice was loving them or murder, really.”

Theon laughed, snorting, genuinely, lowering his head and shaking it. 

Robb found himself thinking he loved that laugh, as he always thought one couldn't have actually loved a laugh; it sounded always so cheesy, so banal, but there he was, listening to a laugh that seemed like music from the heavens and wishing to kiss Theon, to kiss him until the day after tomorrow, intense and lost.

“And you? - Robb asked – Is it only the two of you?”

Theon shook his head, “No, there are also two older brothers, but... I was very small when they moved out, so I barely even remember them. Not that what I do remember makes me want to see them, though.”, he admitted.

Robb's hand went closer, caressing Theon's cheek with his knuckles, delicately.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. - Theon shrugged, moving away slightly, just enough to break contact but not able to move further away from Robb – Not everyone has a postcard family.”

Robb remembered his mother's comments about gay men, his father shaking his head, his own siblings making jokes at times.

They were all good and kind. They didn't know better.

Sansa, though, she never joked about that, not her, for some reason.

“Postcards are fake, though.”

“How Magrittian of you...”, Theon chuckled. Then he looked over to Jeyne, to make sure she was still sleeping.

Robb licked his lips, hesitant, “You and Jeyne...?”

Theon turned, blinked, “Uh? - then his eyes widened – What? No. - he smiled, amused – No, no way.”

“Oh, hm, - Robb looked stubbornly at his glass, – Good?”

Theon smiled wide, smug, “Are you jealous, perhaps?”

Robb raised an eyebrow, sipped, then grinned back, “You seemed too... about your friend.”

Theon seemed almost offended, but didn't dare.

“Oberyn hits on everything that breathes, he likes to be a living stereotype. - he mumbled, faking lack of interest – It would have been more offensive if he didn't, truth be told.”

Robb swallowed that with difficulty.

He bit his bottom lip.

“Or, you could admit you were jealous.”

Theon blinked, outraged, but kept his mouth shut, until he made a small grin.

His hand went on Robb's chest, “I may have been. It doesn't change my policy.”

Robb bit his inner cheek, “If we both feel jealous, shouldn't this mean something?”

“That I don't like people stealing my toys. - Theon said, almost in a laugh, before moving and sitting on Robb's crotch, rubbing himself, he tilted his head, staring at Robb – You don't know me yet, but I rarely change my mind.”

“I'm even more stubborn than you.”

“How can you know?”, Theon asked, eyelids heavy, bowing for a kiss.

Robb's hands run on his back, “I've been told I've got a head like concrete since I was three.”

Theon humped him, letting the friction of their crotches send sparks trashing through their spines, “I know another thing as hard as concrete you have.”

A grin rose on Robb's lips and he raised his eyebrow, pulling Theon closer.

His voice was low and dense, “I might have looked up some of the stuff you like.”

“You sure are a zealous student.”

“And a quick learner. - his hand moved under Theon's shirt and his nails sunk into the skin – Do you happen to enjoy stuff with canes?”

“I prefer floggers, but we can work on a compromise, if you got so curious. - his fingers brushed Robb's swollen lips – … I hoped to see you tonight.”

Robb's glance felt scorching, then his hand was inside Theon's trousers, running through the crack.

“I looked forward to it too.”

Theon let out a small smile, then kissed Robb big and wide, wet, his tongue tasting him, his lips sucking him, the teeth tearing him. There was fragility in his violence.

Robb pulled him and threw him on the sofa, before pinning him down with his weight.

Theon let out a breathy moan.

Robb raised an eyebrow, solaced, elated.

“God, you're prettier when you're helpless...”, he murmured, caressing Theon's stomach under his light pullover.

Theon's finger brushed Robb' face, from the tip of the nose, down the hills of his full lips, pulling the bottom one open.

His eyelids fluttered and Robb knew he had been invited to the gates of hell and heaven all together.

 

*

 

Robb remembered he used to dream of knights and princes.

In his fantasies, played running through the hills, sleeping under trees heavy with ripe red fruits, or snoozing under the summer sun, he'd be saving pretty princes from castles haunted by dragons. At four to six, he'd daydream of receiving a kiss as present, a big hug, the prince always had the hair so black and dark and long eyelashes that tickled his cheek.

Over time, the dragons disappeared.

As his body knocked on teenager years' doors, fairytales became more little scenarios, and the fairy land was simply not Ireland, not his house, not his reality.

The rooms got darker, dimly lit, more welcoming. More undressed the princes.

And the kisses would turn into snogs, into pressured, heated session of petting and need.

Until the daydreaming became wetdreaming.

In his dreams, he caressed the princes and promised them safety and love.

He didn't smack their ass with a flogger, making their thighs buckle and wriggle and their butts writhe in the most obscene arousal, moans pooling in the air.

...but he didn't mind that change.

Theon's moans creamed in the air, sea foam of lewdness, as he received another hit.

His buttcheek shone red and needy, traces of the leather tongues brimming in sweetness and greed. Theon moaned louder with every hit, sucking and biting his lips, as his dick twitched.

Robb hit him harder and Theon almost scooted and fell off his legs. His elbows trembled and staying on all fours started to be hard.

Robb seemed to notice as he stopped and moved to his ass softly, licking the pulsing pink zones, sucking then his inner thigh, reducing Theon to a whimpering mess on the brink of falling.

His warm, big tongue lapped and teased his balls, and Theon pushed his hips more against Robb's mouth, thrusting into him. Robb's nose rubbed Theon's soft cheeks, while his tongue and teeth explored the delicateness of the tender skin of the perineum.

Theon lost all words, his tongue melted into a squirmy obscene mess of sounds.

Robb's first finger invaded him.

Theon could feel it was wet with lube, even a bit too much, saving him all the delightful discomfort of the operation, and his ass welcomed and swallowed the second and the third finger quickly and greedily.

“Whoa...”, he heard Robb chuckle.

Theon swallowed, “...that was blunt.”

Robb's tongue moved closer to the rim of muscles, kiss after kiss, but Theon stiffened; realizing he didn't want to be eaten, he was not a big fun of make outs after rimming, and for some stupid reason the idea of not kissing Robb...

“ _More in._ ”

“Eager.”, Robb smiled against his thigh, while inserting a fourth finger and curling them, starting to rub the inner walls. Theon choked, bit, writhed.

His mind, though, kept stubbornly suggesting him a kiss. Why? In the middle of sex nonetheless?

He turned to Robb, staring at him, greedy and eager.

“You're so soft and hot inside.”, Robb commented, searching for Theon's weakest spot, ready to make him insane.

As he found it, Robb tormented it, slowly, then fast, hitting it. Theon crumbled soon under the touch, buried his face in the sheets, suffocating a moan, sinking it away in the silk, until he felt the dull and big tip of a toy sitting in and substituting Robb's big finger.

He turned, betrayal and humiliation painted on his face, arousal soon following in the dirtiest shade of red, as Robb turned the vibration on and Theon saw white.

He clenched his fists, his eyes pulled in tears, as, while still getting used to the vibrator pulsing right over his prostate, he received another slapped by the floggers’ hard tails.

One. And another. And another one.

Robb's name got screamed and deformed, Theon's horny voice turning it almost into a curse, while his balls and cock begged for release. His hips trembled, his nerves unravelled into fire.

He felt Robb behind him, nose caressing his ears, sweetly.

“Yellow?”, he asked, softly.

Theon shook his head, swallowing, “Green.”

Robb seemed to want to ask again, but then, the sheer need in Theon's voice convinced him to try to turn his questions into orders.

“Turn then. - he said, firmly – Your whory legs can't keep your greedy ass up anymore.”

Theon obliged, more rolling than turning, his legs objectively too torn by arousal to keep up and his ass still drummed in far too well.

His sight was blurred with pleasure, he panted, sweating, as he felt the tails hit his cock – it burnt, but it burnt like heaven. His cock jumped back, stiffer than before, hard and needy, dripping.

He panted, screamed, welcoming every hit, from the kindest to the hardest.

When Robb took out the controller and pushed the vibrator mode on maximum, Theon's hips jumped, his cock twitch, throbbed and come fled on his stomach, unceremoniously dirty white.

He came again, the vibrator pushed even more against his way too weak spot, as Robb added his fingers in, pulling Theon wide.

“Pl-ease... - a sob – Go in.”

Robb raised an eyebrow, amused.

“No.”

“C'mon!”, Theon whined, pushing his ass more towards Robb, rubbing against him.

“You're so needy. - he commented, upping the number of fingers but still not penetrating him with his shaft – How can you be so loose and still suck me in so fucking tight, hm?”

Theon almost buried his face in his own hands.

“Please.”

“Call me sir.”

“Sir. - a pant, a moan, Robb's fingers' pressure, the toy's sparks, Theon came again screaming, humping, riding his own orgasm dragged and long – Oh, fuck, fuck, yeah.”

“You want me in?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

Robb lowered his zip, showing his cock, presenting it almost as a relic or a sacral offer.

“Suck me and let me come on your face.”

Theon nodded, trembling in arousal, he rolled on his side and came closer to Robb's groin. He was again stomach down and he made sure to rub and brush his cock, still twitching, half-hard, overstimulated and still not stopping to crave, against the sheet. Electric need would shot through his spine, making him just hornier and more desperate as the silk caressed his head, as he humped the emptiness.

Theon feels then one of Robb's hands on the back of his head as the other raises the cock to the height of his mouth. Theon gulped and stared at it for a moment, he remembered it being big but the idea of having it now obstructing his throat felt both dangerous and alluring.

He opened his lips, letting his tongue out and started to lick the shaft, his hands moving to jerk the erection to full hardness. Robb's balls were swollen and big, his cock twitching and dark, Theon kissed the tip, took it between his lips and sucked, gently, then strong.

He swirled the tip with the tongue, tormenting it, then opening his mouth and sucking all he could, alternating until he felt Robb's fingers clench his hair, more and more tense in need.

It takes him a while to soften his jaw enough to take him all in, to suck the full shaft and bury his face in the primordial dark scent of Robb's crotch hairs.

Robb's hands now are both in Theon's hair, pressing and forcing him there. Theon could feel Robb's cock on his tongue, all over his mouth, so big it almost deformed him, the girth making his moans more and more strangled, when he sucked him.

And heavy. Heavy on the tongue as it had been in his ass.

He breathed in Robb's scent and sucked it off, while Robb's hips started to buck into his mouth, first slow, then faster, unable to stop sheathing and unsheathing himself into the outrageously scorching warmth of Theon's sloppy wet mouth.

Theon writhed, his ass shivering in need, as he realized he basically stopped sucking and now Robb was pushing his face and his own hips, basically fucking his mouth.

It stirred his cock hard.

Robb groaned, almost growled, thrusting in. All sounds come out muffled but obscene and Theon still couldn’t fully stop himself from sucking eagerly, with need.

He was so heavy and wide, that Theon risked to choke as Robb pushed him further and harder, sliding up to Theon's edge, to the brink, as far down and deep in the throat as he could go.

Theon's eyes pooled with tears but his cock jumped.

He almost gagged, clenched his fists – Robb came with a roar and strong, rough thrusts one after the other, and directly down Theon's throat. He swallowed greedily, then opened his mouth more, let the half-hard cock slide out and offered his tongue.

Robb growled, jerking off and coming a second time, right after, all over Theon's tongue, making it glistering with his pearly come.

Robb panted, staring down with awe.

Theon's eyes shone dark in desire.

“Grab the candles.”, he ordered, making Theon shiver.

 

*

 

“Can I ask something?”, Robb mumbled, brushing his hands over Theon's stomach, letting his skin shiver, feeding off his strangled moans.

Theon nodded, weak from the afterglow.

“How come the cello?”

“Hm?”, he frowned.

Robb seemed clumsy, embarrassed all of a sudden, “I never had a...calling, you know? Did you feel like... that? - he looked away, but smiled, so tender, and then when his blue eyes returned to Theon he swore he skipped a heartbeat – Did its sound call you?”

Theon swallowed.

His hand also caressed Robb's skin.

His thick neck, his angular jaw, his strong collarbones.

“I guess you could say so... it sounded so... carnal. It's a womb sound, in a way, you don't dance with it on the shoulders, you have to welcome it between your legs to envelope its tender, wide, hourglass shape. - a smile twitched on his lips – I guess it was like sex, before I knew what sex was.”

Robb smiled, chuckled, then moved Theon's hair away from his face, to stare at him better, to enjoy that beauty, “...and the double-bass?”

Theon hesitated.

His lips trembled.

Robb was staring at him, making him feel... uncomfortably light. Not like lightweight, no, no, he felt heavy and burdened and real, but he felt like a sunbeam. Or droplets of fresh spring water.

Robb looked at him like he were the sun to bathe in or water to choke on.

Like he was bliss and not torment or disappointment.

He felt weak to that.

A certain affection trembled in his veins, begging him to speak.

“...my mom played it.”

It was just a whisper and immediately after he hoped for Robb to not have heard it or listened to it or understood it; but Robb did and his eyes were big and raw, a blue the colour of a crayon sky in children's drawings.

He caressed his cheek and hair with the back of his hand and his lips brushed softly on his own.

“Did she...?”

“That would have been easier.”, Theon admitted, swallowing the hardness in his throat.

Robb stared, “Is she sick?”

Theon nodded, “So I picked it up, you know.”

Robb felt he couldn't ask for more details, his eyes fluttered and ran over Theon's face as if hoping to find an answer.

Theon looked at him too, closed his eyes, parted his lips. Of course, that was Theon's comfort, after all, wasn't it?

Robb's lips caressed Theon's again and, as his thumb pressured slightly on the jaw, Theon opened his mouth, welcoming Robb in, mixing a sob and a moan.

He tasted the sweet sourness of Robb's morning breath.

“You should stop sleeping here. It's against the rules.”

“I don't remember it being.”

“It is now... - he murmured, caressing him – And you shouldn't ask me about private stuff either.”

“You told me.”

“Perhaps.”

Theon swallowed and Robb kissed his forehead.

“What's the big deal? - Robb asked, caressing his cheek – Maybe instead of neighbours with benefits, we could become friends with benefits.”

“You seem to want more than that. - Theon inquired – And _that_ I can't give.”

“You sure draw a lot of boundaries... - Robb observed, his hand moving south, lowering on Theon's hips, then his crotch, between the hairs, beyond, where the shaft pulsed – For someone who claims to just want some fun.”

Theon bit his lips, choking a moan.

He swallowed again, grabbed Robb and sank his lips into him, thrusting his hips up, to meet Robb's fist, as it started to jerk him off.

Theon arched his back, moaning then louder.

Robb stared at him, enchanted, pumping his cock until it was hard and wet and dripping, fisting it red and throbbing and desperate. There was something about Theon that made him feel like he had just met the other half of himself.

A part of him. And yet, everything he was not.

Like lighting can't be full with just light or sound; it needs them both: plasma and thunder, crushing together.

But Robb wondered what was he, if the strike of light or the roar of the thunder.

And if his heart was as sound as the earth or if it would have shattered like glass upon impact.

He felt Theon's nails sinking into his skin, drawing blood. And he had his answer.

 


	4. Glass photographs

**4\. Glass photographs**

 

* * *

 

_It's my own desire, it's my own remorse._

_Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure._

* * *

 

Robb smiled, seeing Theon as the lift’s door opened.

Theon just stared at him, perplexed. 

A snort, “Have you been informed that you are able to use the lift more than one time per entry?”

Robb looked at the six grocery bags he had, two on the shoulders, two for each hand, clearly too heavy for a normal weighting human being, and claimed, “I’ve done worse.”

Theon smirked, licked his lips and shook his head, not exiting the lift.

“Enter, I'll help you.”

Robb was happy but still a part of him felt misplaced and like he was exploiting Theon.

“I can do it, you know.”

Theon raised an eyebrow, “And do you plan to take the keys and open the door with your cock? That's a lot to ask of it.”

Robb laughed, genuinely laughed, and a bag trembled and slid from his wrist. Theon took it and cursed, then another, to free one of Robb's hands. Now, Theon was skinny, but his arms had to be strong, right? He had always thought they were. He trained them daily during rehearsals.

But that bag felt heavy as fuck.

He blinked, having difficulty to keep the two Robb had on his left with both his hands...

“Are you sure you're a historian?”

Robb smirked, “Yes, why?”

“I don't know, did you get bitten by a radioactive manuscript? This shit is heavy.”

He bl..ushed? Theon blinked to make sure he was not wrong, which would have been hard given Robb had that delicious Irish complexion, all freckles and rosy cheeks, pale, on which a blush was hard to miss or make up.

“Ah, that's, that's just exercise, really. And Grey.”

“Grey?”, Theon asked.

And the answer arrived, as Robb opened his apartment, or the gates of hell, and a mono-headed Cerberus jumped on him, striking Theon down like a bowling pin.

Grey licked Theon's face, provoking in him both fear and horror.

Robb put down the bags and pulled Grey Wind away by the collar, looking at Theon, mortified.

“I'm...guessing you're not... really a dog person.”

Theon blinked, sitting up.

“Does this count as a dog? Or a bear?”

Then his look went to Grey Wind, wanking his tail in joy, tongue out, bright eyes. Okay, it was a pretty dog.

Just too enormous to be classified as a dog in his book.

“Does he bite?”

“Sometimes, but. - a smile – He seems to really like you.”

Theon stood up, cleaning his clothes, brushing the dog hair away with his hands, “Must have had some meat in the bags.”

Grey Wind then moved to him, sniffed his shoes, and licked them, yanked off Robb's grip and started rolling, belly up, next to Theon's feet.

Robb laughed, “I would say he likes you.”

Theon lowered himself, squatting, and started petting the little, giant beast's belly. His fur was soft, silver.

“Grey is not very imaginative as name, poor thing.”

“It's Grey Wind. - Robb said, at first proud, then slowly less – Because he's grey and very fast.”

Theon stared at him, dumbfounded, then returned to petting the dog, “I'm so sorry.”

“I got him at fourteen, okay?”

“At five I could name the family fish better. - he shook his head – You're not very good at naming stuff, are you?”

“Maybe...”, Robb looked away.

Grey Wind licked Theon's hand and he didn't seem to mind.

“A least you didn't decide to call him Balto.”

“I considered it.”

Theon bowed closer to the dog and whispered, loud enough to be heard by Robb, “I'm so sorry, pal.”

“Okay, okay, how would you have called him, now?”

“I don't know... - he admitted, still smiling, amused – Comet? Bright eyes? Sesi? Mukluk?”

Robb frowned, “Wait, wait, wait. Bright eyes?”

Theon nodded, “Planet of the apes? Hello?”

Robb made a pause, “Please, please, tell me you are referring to the sixties movie and not the reboot.”

A smirk.

“You mean the one in which they substituted man's control issues and self-destructive tendencies with legit and understandable scientific research to cure a degenerative illness? - Theon looked away, as if something stung inside him – No, I found it revolting.”

Robb squatted next to him.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Theon breathed in, caressing the puppy still, gaining back some affectionate lickies.

Robb asked again, “Is it about your mother?”

Theon nodded, briefly, only once.

“I'm sorry. - he gulped down – That sounds like shit.”

“You've a brother who's a screw-up so. - he let out, then realized what he had said and expected Robb to be angry at him, so he turned, panicky, his lip trembling – I didn't...”

Robb just hugged him.

He threw his arms around him and kept him close, caressing his hair, letting Theon lean his head against his neck.

Theon noticed only then that his face felt wet.

“I'm a mess...”, he whispered, against Robb's neck.

Robb moved him away just enough to have their faces one in front of the other and kissed him, catching his lips, sinking into his mouth. Theon trembled against him.

His lips quivered, his spine shivered, all of him was the most fragile earthquake.

Robb kept him close, he sank his tongue in, filling him as you'd fill a drowned man with air – desperately, not knowing who's more in need for it to work. Somehow Robb felt Theon's heartbeat in his throat and his moans pooled and melted and Robb drank them all, swallowing the protest and the eagerness all in one gulp.

Theon closed his eyes, replying to the kiss and abandoning himself in it.

As they parted, Robb's thumb caressed Theon's bottom lip.

“I am... wholly fucked up myself.”, Robb whispered.

“You don't seem to be.”

“I'm just better at hiding it.”

“Are you also a bunch of issues piled up under a trench coat?”, Theon asked with a tilted smirk.

Robb nodded, “You have no idea. - he licked Theon's bottom lip, slowly, making him shiver – How much control I need and how much I throw myself into situations where I have no control at all.”

Theon's cheek was crossed again by the smallest, salty trench.

And Robb thought Theon himself was the Mariana Trench.

So deep and obscure and with a pressure that can break bones.

“Someone said... - Theon let out, almost in a sob – Everything is about sex, except sex; sex is about power.”

Robb kissed his forehead, “Robert Michels, summarizing Freud.”

“...do you have like... - he frowned, shaking his head a bit – The internet in your brain or something?”

“I once had a discussion of one hour on why the attribution to Wilde was anachronistic.”, he mumbled.

Theon blinked, “Doesn't sound like you.”

“I'm... - he swallowed – I can be petty and stubborn. And... I may find... pleasure in winning debates at times.”

Theon snorted, kissing Robb's hand, then his voice got all mellow and lustful, “You need consent before humiliating people, mister Stark.”

“Don't call me that or I'll get hard.”, Robb warned.

Theon gave a mocking chuckle, “What about  _Professor_ Stark?”

He saw him blushing again.

Theon found he liked that too.

 

*

 

“Asha!”

She turned slowly. Sniffling up a residual of sadness.

Then she saw her and smiled wide.

“Ah! Jane, right?”

“Jeyne.”, she corrected her, with the voice of one who's used to it and holds no grudge for it anymore.

“Jeyne. - Asha repeated, tasting the difference in her mouth, looking at how her soft, brown hair moved in the wind – How are you doing?”

“All fine. - she moved a lock behind her ears, shy, wishing she could be as upfront and blunt in front of her as she got to be near her brother – Did you manage to see Theon?”

“No. - she admitted, trying to shrug – I met his new ...affair, though, a couple of days ago.”

“Robb? - Jeyne smiled – He's cute, isn't he?”

Asha felt it stinging in her chest.

“He's a pretty boy, I guess.”

Jeyne realized how she had sounded and panicked, starting to move her hands around, nervously, gesticulating and gesturing around, hyperventilating.

“No, no, no, no, I didn't mean it like that, or, well, like, yeah, I meant it like that but not... not about me, you know? – a weak laugh – I mean, yeah, I'm not really into... you know... people with... things dangling and hanging loose between their legs. – a nervous laugh – I mean, I'm an intersectional feminist, so, of course, some are women, I didn't mean to sound like, oh god, I'm sorry, I just, but like I personally, as my personal taste as a person goes, do...”

Asha smirked, sharp. She seemed amused, and even a bit turned on by seeing her so panicky.

Missing breath made her cheeks much redder.

“I got it, don't worry.”

“Thank god. - Jeyne let out in a whined pant – I didn't... you know...”

“It's okay. - Asha chuckled, then pointed with her head to a bar – Do you maybe want to drink something?”

Jeyne nodded, “Yes, god, I'm so thirsty. - then got all pale – I mean not in that...”

Asha this time laughed, “You're adorable, don't worry.”

And by adorable Asha meant she would have gladly eaten Jeyne out right there, in public, passing her tongue over her delicious clit, while fingering her needy insides, having her squirm and moan, unable to contain her delicate voice and get awfully embarrassed at people staring at her as she'd come right into Asha's greedy mouth.

That was roughly her definition of adorable.

Jeyne's gently awkward expression, though, seemed to suggest she had imagined a way purer meaning.

She moved a curl behind her ears.

“I'm sure Theon will talk to you. - she said, softly – Robb seemed like he really wanted you two to talk.”

“Really? - Asha blinked, surprised – He looked like a fucking guard dog.”

Jeyne giggled, shaking her head, “Isn't this what Theon needs though?”

Asha blinked, then looked over her, “...did Theon ever talk to you about our uncle Euron?”

She shook her head, “No, I mean, Oberyn does seem to know more about his family than I do. With me, Theon barely speaks about this stuff.”

Asha smiled, “He wants to protect you.- she sighed – Our family is all flavours of fucked up.”

“You... don't seem so.”, Jeyne murmured, looking at her.

Tenderly and lustful altogether.

She looked delicate and thick, like a magnolia petal begging to be bitten, to be torn and played with, and kissed with the most careful devotion.

Asha grinned, “I see my functioning adult costume works nicely.”

Jeyne snorted, then moved a hand to Asha's leather jacket, and then to Asha's naked wrist, on her warm skin, tanned by the sun. Caressing the wrist bone, almost sticking out, circling it, then her fingers moving back towards Asha's arm.

Asha stared at her soft lips, swollen, the little gap between her front teeth, wondering how much open it would have been, moaning. She wondered how loud Jeyne would be. 

“It does... - Jeyne said, almost hesitating – It suits you.”

Asha swallowed, still staring at her mouth, wishing to bite those lips split and swollen. The little shy mouse she had met the first time seemed way more straightforward this time.

Asha imagined sinking her arm, as deep as to where Jeyne was caressing, right into her wet cunt.

Jeyne bit her lips, “You promised me a cup of coffee, I think?”

“A drink. - Asha corrected – I didn't precise the kind.”

 

*

 

“Oh, fuck.”, Theon panted.

Robb smirked, kissing his ear from behind, “Is it good?”

Theon gulped down, teary-eyed, his lips swollen, his face red.

“It is... - he whispered, breathless – But you put too much chili flakes.”

“Pft! - Robb snorted, moving away from behind Theon and taking a spoon of sauce himself to taste – Nonsense, it's perfect.”

Theon laughed, “Did you lose part of your tasting buds? This stuff could kill a horse.”

“Listen. - he smiled – You're too much of a sweet tooth. Do you think I didn't see you always pick out sweet wines?”

“Perhaps. - Theon glanced away – But I like sour stuff too.”

Robb snorted, “Sour like?”

“Vinegar chips.”

“Of course you had to like something that tastes as condensed life disappointments. Is it where you get your optimistic outlook on life from?”

Theon blinked, staring at Robb, between outraged and amused.

“Are you sassing me?”

“Maybe.”, Robb admitted, in a smile.

“I may like it. - Theon admitted – But in small doses and strictly post coitum.”

Robb smiled, moving a hand around Theon's waist and pulling him close. Robb smirked on the gaping edge of Theon's mouth.

“You're already getting post coitum lunch.”

“With all the appetizer of come you made me swallow, you better feed me something tasty, you know?”

Robb raised his eyebrows, “You didn't seem to mind, truth be told.”

“How rude...”, he whispered, bending his head to welcome Robb's kiss.

Robb's hand moved to Theon's ass, fondling it through the boxers, squishing the soft, biteable skin under his fingers and enjoying the moans of approval he was getting in his mouth.

He wished he knew how far or how not-far to go with Theon.

He liked sex in a way Robb was not familiar with yet fully – though he took a certain pride in discovering being a natural at it and that it came to him almost as immediate as a heartbeat – but he was not sure up to which point to push himself. He would have liked, at times, to also take him slow and good, tenderly.

Theon pushed his tongue deeper into him. He seemed into that too.

Robb didn't mind the ropes, the toys, the deforming gags or dirty floggers – it aroused him too; but he was a country boy, he tried to forget Ireland or wash it away, with all the homophobia and the sex shame his catholic baggage gave him and threw on his shoulders unkindly and not benevolently... but for years to him the idea of having sex with a man, loving him sweetly and slowly, tenderly, delicately, was already a forbidden dream. And now, now that sex was hot wax, collars and whips, it seemed still just as forbidden.

“Theon. - he begged, parting panting – Can... can we... sweetly?”

Theon blinked, then smiled, “Sweet doesn't mean real love, Robb, and rough doesn't mean just sex.”

Robb frowned.

He realized that sentence could be interpreted in two very... very different ways.

He blinked, Theon kissed his eyelids.

“Anyway, not now, I'm fucking hungry.”

“It's not like you moved that much that you'd need energy?”, Robb pointed out.

Theon put his hands on his hips, “Hunger makes you rude, I see.”, he pretended to be angry, but he smiled.

He was bright and bold.

He was funny.

Robb thought that was part of his charm too, or solely the beauty or the fatale-effect, but those moments where he just would snark out something.

His tongue was quick and sharp, as his mind.

Robb held him by his hips and pulled him closer, rubbing his nose behind his ear, enjoying his scent, that seemed so much stronger in the nape of his neck. He breathed him in.

He fought back the instinct of biting him bloody.

Theon bit his lips, looking away.

“I thought about... what you said on being also friends.”

“Uh.”

Theon swallowed, “...if you want, you can come to my concert, I have some tickets for family and, well, you guess.”

Robb opened his mouth, brushing Theon's neck with his lips, his hot breath sent shiver down Theon's spine, making him moan, his hips inadvertently moving back, searching for Robb's. Robb's hand filled his mouth, suffocating every sound.

Theon's eyelids fluttered, he sucked Robb's fingers, eager and greedy.

Robb breathed him in, kissing his hair on the neck, “I like it when you're so meek...”

_Meek._

The sound of that word gaggled up in his mouth, it gagged him up to the throat and made his stomach bubble and boil. He froze, shivered, panted.

_Meek._

Robb frowned, recognizing those twitches as different. His shivers were not hot now, but cold.

_Meek._

Theon's chest was freaking out, breath and beat unconnected and quick, it looked almost like the asthma attack or the convulsing seizures his cousin Robin had. And yet, it was scarier, because it seemed to come from something beyond Theon's body.

_Meek._

_You're such a good, meek kid Theon, you won't bite uncle, will you?_

Robb moved away his hand and saw Theon's pupils dilated, blown dark and not of desire – before Robb could ask, Theon moved to the sink and puked.

The sound was hard, liquid and thickly nauseating.

He stared at Theon's elbows as they trembled.

He cleaned his mouth with a handful of water and the back of his hand, then turned back. He didn't even look directly into his eyes.

“...Theon, are you alright?”

He shook his head for no. But he said “Yes.” .

“Did I say something wrong?”

_Meek._

“No.”, Theon roared in the smallest whisper.

_Meek._

He moved a hand to his head. It pulsed, it drummed, echoed in his ears – he couldn't hear anything. Robb's voice spread slow and numb as if it were underwater.

_Meek._

_It's our secret, clear? You can't say it to anyone._

“I'm fine.”

Robb grabbed his wrists, panicking, and stared into his eyes, “You're not fine.”

Theon shivered. He could barely see Robb in front of him.

He smelled the orange tree out of the window of – he was not in his childhood home anymore, no, he couldn't smell oranges. The sound of the waves. It didn't make sense. Green. Lime green. His blankets. He loathed lime green.

His uncle's hairy hand on the blanket.

His bottom lip trembled.

Words didn't come out.

He wanted to explain, he wanted to – even tell? Why would he want to tell that to Robb? Why would he want to... but say at least not to use that word. That damn word.

He trembled, his eyes watered, his throat completely stuck.

“Sweet doesn't mean love. Sweet is how some sugar-coat in a thick layer of bullshit all that's rotten underneath, like a fucking Dragée of shit.”, he thought, wishing he could say that to Robb and that he would have understood.

But Robb's hand on his wrist felt good.

It didn't look like the other. It was soft and nice and Robb's.

“Is it the word? - Robb asked, softly – I won't say that anymore, I'm sorry.”

Why was he apologizing? He didn't know? He couldn't have known?

Theon nodded.

He didn't want to go away. His body was asking him to run from it, from the shame, but he was still there.

Robb's hand was caressing his cheek, so slow that Theon felt like he was going to faint for that gentle touch.

“I won't say it anymore. I promise.”

Theon nodded, weakly.

“Please, stay. - he took him close – I'll finish cooking for you, we can talk about it or pretend it never happened. - a smile – Your rules, Theon, just stay.”

Theon's eyes widened, he raised his head, and found out for the second time that day he didn't mind that weird thing, sticky and unknown, that was going on. As if someone had put glue or honey between them and they kept being pulled back, close.

“Thought you were more bossy...”

“I like my methods. - Robb admitted in a smile – But I can recognize when I'm not an expert.”

Theon glanced at the side, trying to make an effort not to cross Robb's look.

“...I'm sorry I puked in your sink.”

“I have a dog?”

“Okay, but...”

“I ate your ass.”

“Still...”

Robb bowed and kissed him, softly, just a brush on the lips, gently. Theon was sure his chest shouldn't have tightened up for such a small thing.

But Robb's eyes were so soft and nice.

“This is how little it matters.”

Theon wrinkled his nose, “Still kinda gross.”

Robb snorted, “I changed diapers at four. - he raised his eyebrows – I am fearless and smelless.”

Theon snorted, shaking his head. “Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

Robb curled his lips, jokingly, “Oh, so we are at that point in our not relationship.”

Theon slapped his arm softly, biting his lips, “Don't act all cocky. - his eyes shone – I'll, I just need to wash them to eat.”

“...to eat?”

“...and maybe to eat something else after. - his eyes went on Robb's mouth and then down – But for now, yes, I don't want my food to taste bad.”

“So, benefits aside. - Robb smiled – Friends too?”

“Friends too.”, Theon accepted, in a smirk, then kissed Robb's cheek.

“I throw in the pasta then. - Robb said, as if otherwise he would have deprived Theon of food, and Theon somehow found that childish pitch adorable – You can pick a new toothbrush from the bathroom closet. I always keep some extra.”

“For future lovers?”, Theon asked, mocking.

Robb didn't seem to individuate the irony.

“Uh, no, I usually don't... go for... with benefits stuff, it's more like... if my siblings came to visit?”

Theon blinked, then bit the inside of his cheek, “...you can invite one to the concert with you.”

“Uh?”

“The less loud one.”

Robb grinned, bright, “Sansa will adore it.”

Theon smiled back, a smirk, but softer and less smug than usual, as he repeated to himself the name “Sansa” as if it were a little charm.

He didn't mind knowing.

 

*

 

The electric night lights painted the hotel room in the strongest pink. Jeyne stretched, twisting her arms up and tensing her legs, with a delighted whine as she did, then she rolled on her side. The pale, ivory sheet fell gently on her waist, barely covering her ass.

Asha turned, by then already with her shirt on, searching for her leather jacket, blinked, staring at the pretty, mature apples on Jeyne's chest.

She bit her lip and slapped the girl's ass.

“Don't tempt me. I have to go to work.”

Jeyne pouted and then rubbed her hips against the mattress, “That's a shame...”

“Indeed...”, Asha mumbled, staring at the beautiful arch of Jeyne's bottom, as it peeked through the cotton sheets, calling her like a siren.

She put a hand under the fabric and gave a squeeze, “I'll miss it.”

Jeyne laughed, “Call me, then. I might see if I'm free for another turn.”

Asha raised an eyebrow, then bowed on her and kissed her exposed back, her shoulders, her neck. Her lips were soft and warm and Jeyne sucked her own, moving her ass out, letting the sheets slip, to gain attention.

Asha chuckled, and whispered, on the edge of Jeyne's mouth “I have to go to work.”

Jeyne caught her in a kiss, and a finger slipped into her still wet cave, making her moan in Asha's mouth. Asha's tongue still tasted like her come, like the needy clit she flicked, like the warm flesh she entered in – Jeyne stiffened, god, she shouldn't have gotten more aroused at the thought.

Asha moved over her, leading, slipping a second finger in.

Jeyne's arched her back, breaking the kiss to moan.

Asha chuckled, her voice low, her tie still undone.

“You're still so fucking wet.”

Jeyne bit her lips, rolled her eyes to the ceiling, pushing her hips against Asha's fingers, shivering at the warmth of her touch.

Asha chuckled, her tongue twisted on Jeyen's ear, sucked the lobe purple.

“You came so much, and yet you still fuck yourself on my fingers like that.”

Jeyne bit her lips, strangling a moan as Asha added another finger and then crooked them, rubbing her wall, setting her nerves alight.

Asha's laugh was low and dense like liquor.

“Does your pussy miss me already, dolly?”

Jeyne pulled Asha's tie, forcing her lower and closer. Her eyes gleamed dark with desire.

“Enough talk. - she panted, as Asha's curled fingers found the spot that made her go insane, pushing and rubbing it – Break me.”

Asha grinned, using her free hand to push Jeyne with her stomach up and sinking in more easily. Jeyne moaned, arched, now fully loud, throwing her head back, hair spilling like dark rain on the pillow, as her hips squirmed and her legs trembled to the rhythm of Asha tormenting her spot.

When Asha added the fourth finger, Jeyne closed her eyes.

Electricity ran through her veins, her whole body shaking, begging for release, for shooting out all that pooling pleasure heating her up.

“Any other orders, miss?”, Asha asked, almost sarcastic, her pitch snarky but her look completely lost in awe.

Jeyne panted, interrupting herself in moans with each touch. But Asha understood, nonetheless, lowering her head.

Her tongue was warm and big on Jeyne's sweetness, and she melted against it, slowly, madly, riding her hips against the pressing tongue, moaning as the fingers became five and her whole body was charged and shivery and ready to let go.

Her clit burned in need, Asha's tip of the tongue twitching it, licking it, sucking it, teasing the softest tip, taking it all in and enveloping it in the outrageous heat of her mouth. I t jolted against her softness in circles and then around and all over the most sensitive part that makes all of Jeyne twitch and melt in electrocuted bliss.

Jeyne's hands clenched the sheets, her knuckles white, so her mind, went blank with lust and need.

Asha's fingers took over,  thrusting into Jeyne more and more desperately and fast, making her scream and tighten, her cunt tensing as pleasure approached and inundated her raw flesh. Her voice unravelled in soaked blissful moans, as she writhed against Asha's tongue, her red, needy clit about to burst.

Asha pressed more, milking her soft insides, feeling Jeyne's orgasm breaking against and around her hand and tongue. Jeyne arched and screamed, unsure of where she was coming from, her clit made of sparks of desire, while squirt sprayed against Asha's face and neck, her insides sucked to the last drop of pleasure, coming all over in a sweet waterfall. 

Her legs felt weak, but Asha held one with her free hand and pushed her mouth deeper, still licking the now oversensitive clit, making Jeyne jolt and jerk, in the most painful pleasure. Soon Asha's fingers returned to move inside her, still on the same zone.

She chuckled against her cunt, “Let's see how many times I can make you come again.”

Jeyne couldn't even protest, she swallowed all the fingers pumping into her and her eyes rolled to the ceiling, while need took over.

“Sssh. You have to be good now.”, Asha said.

Jeyne blinked, not fully understanding, too occupied in having her brain fucked away, until she saw Asha taking the mobile, answering a call she didn’t hear.

At first she tried to protest, but then Asha pressed more and faster and she came again, liquid spilling, she threw her hands on her mouth, trying to mute herself.

“Ah-a.”, Asha said, smirking smugly, putting the telephone on her shoulder, to have the second hand free to go and substitute her tongue, rubbing Jeyne's red clit, making it twitch.

It tormented and teased it so well, Jeyne just sucked her hand, finding herself wetter from the humiliating perspective of someone hearing her moans.

“Yes, Theon. Don't worry.”

she stiffened, her whole back thrown into delight then.

Asha grinned, took her hand almost out and then reinserted it, whole, in a fist. Jeyne arched and screamed, moaning hard. Asha's other hand pressed and squeezed her clit, almost too gently, then pushed on its gland making it burst in dry pleasure, while the pumping fist thrust into her, hard and big.

“Oh? These sounds? - Asha grinned – I don't know what you're speaking about.”

Jeyne's voice echoed in the room, moans octaves higher than usual, voice lewd and drenched. She wouldn't have been willing to admit how wetter it made her the idea of Theon hearing her come, but Asha seemed to have noticed from the expression she had, pumping then faster against her needy, tightening walls.

She tried to beg something, but soon she was moving too, fucking herself on Asha's fist, needing it to open her apart, to take all of her.

Asha took the phone in her hands an put it right in front of Jeyne's withering, drooling mouth.

“I don't hear anything.”, she lied again, fakely innocent.

Jeyne didn't even have the courage to stare at the screen, as she came again, riding Asha's hard knuckles and feeling her fingers press on her g-spot, as if she had to hammer it split.

She screamed, coming all over Asha's arm and her white shirt, while she had the most aroused grin on her face.

Jeyne's pussy shivered still around her wrist and hand, making her hard and wet too.

Asha took her phone and put it back in her pocket.

Jeyne blinked, “Ah...don't you...”

She chuckled, “Do you think I'd really share your pretty sounds with anyone? - she asked, exiting from her with a small pop – I just figured you'd maybe be into it.”

Jeyne panted, smiling, in relief both physically and very, very professionally.

“You're a mean one, Asha Greyjoy.”

A chuckle, “I'm just drawn that way.”

 


	5. Glass Thunderstorms

**5\. Glass Thunderstorms**

 

* * *

 

_And if you're guilt then I'm the shame,_

_and if I'm hurt then you're the blame._

_You wash my trace from your skin and you leave again._

* * *

 

He opened his eyes slowly, as if his brain didn't want to force him out of the limbic, morphemic state of bliss. Between his arms, Theon, sleeping against his chest, almost curled up.

He didn't smirk when he slept.

And this, somehow, made Robb feel like he knew him a tiny bit better than anyone else.

He looked out of the window, to find rain and the dark, slow curls of the night clouds, surrounding a tender moon. After lunch, he remembers very little: they started drinking a bit, Theon sneezed, Robb gave him a pullover? Maybe? Theon took it off, then took off also their shirts, pushed him on the bed and rode him, slow and strong, fucking himself over his stupid, teenage hardon that he seemed to awake by just existing in a three kilometre radius. Robb took care of choking him, while he rode, then slapped him across the face – a bit too hard, probably, but that made Theon pant and moan so hard – the print of five fingers red on his cheek, burning and stinging like the bite of truth. Robb seemed to remember so. And then, then he remembered gagging him using his own boxers, throwing him to the floor and fucking him blind – Theon... Theon's cock twitched and jumped, staining both their stomachs in ribbons of white. Had it happened? He focused more and remembered Theon begging for more, Theon asking to be slapped, coming as the paddle hit his ass while he was sucking on Robb's cock...

Robb had a flash, he lifted the covers and checked Theon's back and ass. They were a constellation of little bruises, but, as he did that, Theon snuggled closer to him, rubbing his head in the shallow pit of Robb's collarbones, and still unaware, he kissed his neck, just with a brush of his lips. Soft as summer.

He remembered disinfecting and putting something on him and now Theon's skin had such a sweet scent and his skin was so soft and... He felt Theon's knee brushing against his cock.

He swallowed.

“...you're awake, then?”

A little smirk, “Almost.”

His voice was kneaded with sleepiness, drowsy and soft.

“You fell asleep in my arms...”, Robb said, with an inch too much of tenderness for him to hide.

Theon's nose tickled his chest hair, “You are good at cuddling.”

“Thank you...”, his answer came out a bit choked by Theon's leg rubbing his balls swollen and his cock hard.

Theon's hand caressed him, gently, “Can I ask you something, Robb?”

“Hm?”

“You said you never... how much of a first I am?”

Robb frowned, “I had people before you, I thought that much was clear.”

“Yes, that was. - a smirk – Or you're that much of a natural talent, which would be illegal.”

Robb kissed Theon's head, “Then what?”

Theon breathed in, “You asked me to be sweet and... I guess I was wondering if you ever had... something not strictly vanilla before me. - he licked his lips – If this is... so unnatural to you.”

“I wouldn't say unnatural. - Robb passed a hand under Theon's arm, pulling him close – There's new stuff but... I like it.”

Theon blinked, remembering the past days, discussing their limits, discussing what Theon wanted and liked, discussing what was a no-no and what they could try to see. He usually had people that asked him to go further, more into the... well, real deal with that type of sex – he knew he was not the most adventurous one. He liked pain, he did, in measure. He liked the humiliation factor most of all, the almost fear, the thrill of being used.

But pain – the real one – that would have opened doors he had tried to close. 

After dating a bit of both worlds, he had people unable to understand that being tied like a shrimp or fucked by thirty people and peed on was to him heaven, but he also had people who couldn't understand why even just the slightest bit of knife play was absolute hell.

He remembered Robb's face as he showed him a negotiation form. He looked so cute and lost.

He just wanted to know what Theon liked and he would have done that and never push him into less or more; and that, that to Theon was new.

Robb trembled, “...why? Am I doing something bad?”

“You need to work on your knots a bit more. - Theon mumbled, not sharing his thoughts, and making sure to hide the smile rising on his lips – And the dirty talk, you're a bit too prudent.”

“It's because I don't want to overdo.”

“I wish you overdid sometimes, it would make it easier...”, Theon said, almost to himself.

Robb pulled him closer and their foreheads touched.

“I'll do all you want. - he confessed, promised, swore – Everything.”

“You exist too. - Theon chuckled – It's not only about what I want, but what _you_ want too.”

Robb clacked his tongue on his palate, thinking, “How about... you wish for something and I wish for something?”

Theon snorted, then kissed his nose, gently. “Sure. Hm. – Theon reflected on it, caressing Robb's shoulder and connecting the freckles on it – Fisting, for sure. And I'd like you to be more daring in general.”

Robb seemed to sign a mental notebook.

Theon chuckled, “And you? What do you want to try, hm? - a smile – You like marking me.”

Robb gulped. 

“Yes, I’ve noticed. - Theon laughed, finding Robb so endearing – You keep sucking and biting and you love when my skin turns all red and bruised. - his eyes fluttered, he stared at Robb's swollen lips – And you love to come inside me.”

Robb looked away, hoping it would have made his embarrassment less vivid.

It didn't work.

“You don't seem like a clamp guy, though. Maybe you'd like watersports? - Theon blinked, caressing Robb's nipple, then his eyes shone – You like when I have a collar on... Pet play?”

Robb flushed, “Eh?”

Theon smirked, licking his lips. Robb stared at his pointy canines.

“Do you want me to be your dog?”

“I am not into animals.”

Theon laughed, “It's not about animals, silly. - he caressed Robb's cheek that was burning red – Oh, god... you're  _outraged_ .”

Robb scoffed, looking away, “Of course, I am.”

Theon's smirk became a wide grin, his eyes shone. Robb blinked... was he having fun?

Theon smiled and bent his head, painting a small kiss on Robb's lips, then licked them with his tongue, inviting him to open his mouth.

“It's about obedience.”, he explained, briefly, on the verge of Robb's mouth.

Robb trembled against the hinted kiss.

Theon blinked, seeing his hesitance, “Am I going too far?”

Robb swallowed, “Can't I pick what I'd want?”

Theon nodded, “Of course.”

“ _Tell me you love me next time. Swear it, sigh it, sob it, scream it. Shout it while you come, open on my cock, desperate in my arms._ ”, he thought. But did not ask.

“I'll think about it, then. But I don't think I'd mind a collar and leash... just the animal bit.”, he mumbled, pensive.

Theon smiled, hiding in the crook of Robb's neck.

“You smell good.”

Robb breathed in Theon's scent too, kissing his head, “Until when am I allowed to cuddle you?”

“I have rehearsal in the morning. - he kissed Robb's chin, his stubble scratching him lightly – How is the essay coming together?”

“Pretty good actually.”

Theon looked at him and blinked slowly, “If... this friend thing works like this if I say something stupid you won't laugh at me, right?”

Robb frowned, “Unless it's ridiculously silly, I promise I'll contain myself.”

Theon swallowed, “I'm not... sure how to behave with friends.”

“Didn't have many in school?”

“Yeah, the pretty, effeminate boy who plays the goofy violin? - he chuckled – I... I got a bit of a nickname, actually. I did things I'm not really proud of.”

“Like?”

Theon gulped, staring at Robb's chest that for some obscure reason, calmed him. Wide, pale, the gentle, soft, curly hair.

“I fucked around a lot. Girls, boys.”

“...like...now?”

“No. - he sighed, but proceeded, caressing his skin and Robb made an effort not to force their glances to meet – Just fucked, you know, like... mainstream fucking.”

Robb suffocated a snort, “It's not like you are a hipster.”

“Don't sass me, country boy.”

Robb smiled, “So... many lovers, not many friends.”

“Yeah. - he chuckled – I got some in music school and then at work. Jeyne. Oberyn. I think Tyrion would consider me a friend too in his own way, but... I never, you know... mixed it with fucking?”

“Well. - Robb admitted – That reassures me about the... pretty man.”

“Oberyn?”, Theon snorted.

“He seemed like you could like him.”

“I don't fuck people who talk about their children continuously, it's a bit of a turn off. - he mumbled – I have daddy issues but not at that level.”

Robb laughed, “You know, usually people don't admit it that easily.”

“Oh, please. - Theon chuckled low, then turned serious again, moving his hand on Robb's chest – I'm not sure... how it works, so... is it okay if I just act like it comes to me naturally and you tell me if..”

“I’ve never really done this either. I’ve had... flings without labels but we were not friends. - he frowned – I mean, we were not boyfriends... you know, when you’re one of the four gay guys in like a sixty kilometre radius, you learn to distinguish between _I need to bang someone_ and _I really adore your personality_.”

Theon snorted, his teeth shining like his eyes.

“Then what am I?”

Robb blinked, his mouth faltered and quivered. He stuttered.

“A bit of both.”, he replied, in a breath.

Theon raised his head, looking at him.

“A lot of both.”, Robb corrected himself.

“You know I-”

“I know.”, Robb said, in a hoarse growl full of sorrow. He caught Theon's mouth in his own, pushing into it as if suffocating a question could change anything.

As if truth would have hurt less pushed in the back of a throat instead of emerged and pooling from the lips.

 

*

 

“Oberyn Martell!”

Hearing that voice behind him, Oberyn closed his eyes, breathed in deeply and tried to recall all the catholic saints that could have helped him in that situation and didn't, to mentally curse them.

“Ramsay Bolton! - he said, in his most charming, fake voice, grin on his thin lips – How may I help you?”

Ramsay gave him a weird look. His eyes were almost white but for some reason Oberyn always found they reminded him of the pearl-shaped, dark pits of sharks.

“I was thinking about the second violin.”

Of course.

“Jeyne Poole. - he said – Very talented, isn't she?”

“Yes, yes, well... she's not very... talkative, is she?”

Oberyn blinked, smiling nervously, “I'm not sure what you mean. She's quite the chatter.”

“You see, she... has charmed me quite a bit.”

Oberyn summoned all his grace and good manners to avoid showing his disgusted expression. “Oh. Well, isn't it... unlucky that your... parts don't match her interests.”

“Did she tell you that? Because if it's about the nails-”

“Yes, she did. - he interrupted him, gracefully blunt, his smile becoming cement and his pupils deep and sharp, he raised an eyebrow – Also, I have reasons to think she's currently in a relationship.”

“With Theon Greyjoy?”

Oberyn squinted his eyes and shook his head.

“...I know Theon can be quite... dandy, but I'm pretty sure he is not a woman and that, were he, he wouldn't be a lesbian.”

“Judging by the marks on his body, he seems like he'd fuck just about anything.”

Oberyn felt his neurons collectively committing seppuku, while his self-control cried over the commands of his brain, holding back the temptation to commit murder. Thank god prison meals sounded like just a well enough reason not to commit a felony to his overly picky Mediterranean palate.

“I'm sure having peculiar tastes in bed and being... a libertine are not co-dependent. - he commented, dry – I'm also quite confident we should all focus more on Bach and less on Gossiping.”

“More Musorgskij and less Musgossip.”

Oberyn was sure god either didn't exist or truly hated him, because he was praying for thunder to bolt Ramsay away from him harder than he had ever prayed for anything in his life.

He licked his lips and sucked them, “...we could say so, yes. - then he blinked – But, truly, Jeyne is not interested in any man, don't take it personally.”

“Oh, I don't take anything personally. - he grinned, sinisterly, lying, and Oberyn stared at his lips, remembering a remark about worms that Theon had told him once – Do I have something on my mouth?”

“The shit you sprout?”

Oberyn turned left and so did Ramsay.

“The libertine is here.”, Theon commented, stepping on the stage with his cello, faithfully with him.

He sat next to Oberyn, who was still pretty much petrified due to his comment.

Ramsay gave the most nervous chuckle.

“Well, wasn't that rude?”

“I genuinely think sprouting shit is your kink together with pestering people. - Theon blinked, faking innocence – Maybe you should start eating it, at least it would keep your mouth occupied and we could rehearse.”

Oberyn stared as Ramsay's smirk got thinner and stretched upper and upper, tilted, deformed, while a vein on his head seemed ready to pop.

He was not very good with diplomacy, quite the contrary, but that comment seemed to be a very bad idea.

“I thought eating ass was more your thing, Greyjoy.”

Theon's eyes got cold. Oberyn knew something bad was coming.

“Oh. - he curled his lips and then smiled – No, you see, I usually get people to eat mine and quite voraciously. I suppose it's an emotion you are not familiar with as it requires having some kind of at the very least not revolting appearance.”

“...Theon.”, Oberyn whispered, warningly.

Ramsay moved closer to them.

His eyebrows rose, “You have no idea what you just said...”

“What? - Theon scoffed – Your father will hear about it? Will you go and tell him how a lesbian rejected you and you were so butthurt you had to insult the sexual habits of someone who, at least, at your difference, manages to get some? - he made a grimace, faking a pout – I'm not sure he will exactly comfort you. - his glance got sharp – Maybe he'd advise you to train, instead, so he won't have to risk his professional reputation to get you into orchestras.”

Oberyn was sure Ramsay would have exploded, instead, he smiled with his worm mouth, gave a freezing, wrathful look with his eyes and stepped to his chair.

Oberyn looked at both of them and bended towards Theon, “I know you mean to protect Jeyne but be more prudent.”

“What can he do? - Theon scoffed – Sabotage the breaks of the underground?”

“...you are good hearted, but that tongue is too quick. - Oberyn mumbled – And too vulgar.”

“I'm afraid literati insults would be wasted on him. But next time, I'll tell him I hope he shares the fate of Biagio da Cesena in Michelangelo's the Last Judgment.”

Oberyn snorted, “He has already the ears.”

“I'm sorry for the snake, though.”, Theon pointed out.

“Snakes are beautiful animals. - Oberyn sighed – They would deserve better use.”

Jeyne placed her hand on their shoulders as a salute and, smiling, sat next to them, “Hello.”

“Oberyn smiled, “You know you owe Theon a cup of coffee.”

“Ohoho. - she smiled – I owe him way more than that.”

Theon frowned, raising an eyebrow, “Expand.”

She grinned, “Thanks to you, I met the woman of my dreams.”

Theon's eyes gleamed, “You didn't.”

“I did. - she smiled – Multiple, multiple times.”

Oberyn turned to her, “I knew it!  _Brava, piccina_ .”

“Don't _brava_ her. - Theon reprimanded, then turned to Jeyne – Jey, Asha is not the... settle down type.”

“I'm not sure you're aware that not all lesbians are nesters.”

“You are the nesterest nester who ever nested. You probably have baby names picked out.”

“I would love Sansa. - she admitted in a sigh – Or Sasha.”

Theon blinked, then. Sansa. Like Robb's sister.

Robb.

Oberyn laughed, “I'm afraid, Jeyne, that you’ve just proven Theon right. But really, boy, you shouldn't worry, I'm sure she won't... Theon?”

Jeyne stared at him, terrified.

“Is he... spacing out... smiling?”

Oberyn looked at her, in disbelief, “It's comforting to know if it's a hallucination, it's collective.”

“Theon? - Jeyne called him, touching his shoulder – Are you...under some kind of substance?”

“If you have an addiction, you can tell us. - Oberyn granted – We will help you, and then proceed to make passive aggressive jokes for the following ten years, but we would help you.”

Theon, still smiling, shook his head slowly. He welcomed the cello between his legs and started tuning it.

Oberyn blinked, surprised, then looked at his neck, at the marks on it, and smiled, “Oh, Theon, have you decided who to give your free tickets to?”

Theon nodded, closing his eyes and welcoming the notes.

“I thought Robb was in need of some musical education.”

“How generous.”, giggled Jeyne.

 

*

 

“Mom!”, Asha put down two heavy groceries bags on the floor at the entrance.

Her uncles Rodrik and Aeron came out from her mother's room; Aeron put a finger in front of his lips as to ask for silence and tranquillity. He moved to Asha looking as grim as he has in the last years, after he had “found god” or whatever and lost the personality that had made him the only Uncle on her father's side that Asha actually enjoyed having at the Christmas table. At least he liked women more than damn soccer.

“You look skinnier every time.”, he said, with a certain disdain.

“You look more like Rasputin every time.”, she replied, with a pointy, smug smirk.

Rodrik shook his head, tired.

“Your uncle came to visit your mom.”

“I've guessed that much.”

“She looks well. - Aeron mumbled – She asked of...”

“Theon. I know.”

“And Balon too.”

“Whoa. - Asha blinked – Now, to remember him with joy and want to see him, that is some serious dementia.”

“Asha!”

“What? - she raised an eyebrow – I loved my dad like my brothers did, but we all know how mom hated him.”

Aeron frowned. “We must not think that love and hate are so mutually exclusive, my child.”

“Have you forgotten what he had let Euron do?”

Aeron sucked his lips. Asha saw bolts in his eyes.

“I did not. I can't.”, he said, firm.

Asha felt like her tongue had been cut in that moment. He had been so gloom and grim lately, but suddenly direct. She missed her laughing uncle, and maybe she did him wrong too by doing that. She was bad at accepting people's changes.

She was tired of being left behind with the old snake skin.

“There are some things you children don't and shouldn't know about. - Aeron proceeded, clenching his rosary, and looking at her as if she were still nine – Your mother wouldn't want you to know either. She wouldn't want to know.”

On that, Asha had to disagree.

Her mother would have wanted to shoot Euron Greyjoy with a machine gun and drop him into the fucking Thames. Or behind bars. For sure not on Hawaii, spending all the money of his percentage of the firm, while fucking some underage model.

“I'm trying to bring Theon to meet her but he doesn't feel ready.”

Rodrik looked down, “Can you blame him? Last time he came you blamed him for Rodrik and Maron's behaviour.”

“I just said he should have defended himself or gotten over it. - she shouted – Not all of us know what to say. He's not... he's delicate. He gets hurt with every slightly wrong word.”

Aeron gave her a dry look.

Her throat trembled.

“Anyway. - Rodrik reprised, unwilling to fight louder – She just asks of him. Tell him that, maybe flattery will grab his heart.”

She looked away.

“I think he may still resent me for taking up his percentage.”

“He is not like Rodrik and Maron. - Aeron pointed out – You can't buy him with your own rules, he wanted his father's love. Balon died and god knows he never loved that small, sweet child one day after he showed how he truly was. Remind him that his mother did love him and does.”

“She wants her baby boy back. - Asha's voice almost broke but she had managed to glue it back together while it was still in her throat, she faked a cough to justify the slightly tilted, hoarse pitch – Theon is not ten anymore. And he's not... well, not openly... like he was.”

“He will be with her. - Aeron said, glaring – She has never hurt him.”

“Wow. Fuck you?”

“Asha!”, Rodrik yelled at her.

Asha rolled her eyes to the ceiling, crossing her arms.

Aeron groaned, “For someone who hates her father so much, you sure share his stubbornness.”

“Better pig-headed than-”

“Asha. - her uncle Rodrik's voice this time raised and forced her to stiff and pay attention, but as she did, he softened – Please, bring the groceries to the kitchen and go say hi to your mom. I'll prepare something nice for dinner, okay?”

“A beer would be enough.”

“She would want you to eat better. - then he turned to Aeron – We will talk to Theon, but maybe so should you. What you share may be a key to healing both of you.”

What healing Rasputin needed was beyond Asha, but she saw him considering those words, weighting them and so, in some way, she did too.

 

*

 

Theon's tongue dripped out, heavy and panting, as Robb took out the gag and substituted it promptly with his tongue.

Theon was on all fours, curling next to him, his face still stained from the come of Robb's cock, which he rubbed on his face desperately, while his ass instead pointed to Robb's right hand that was groping it tight, squeezing it.

Robb caressed the soft skin, the texture of thick, warm silk, and found his fingertips enjoying how the little fat would spill out of the red ropes, curving softly for his hands to cup and tease. He rubbed Theon's clenched, bruising thighs, making him whine out into his mouth, drugged by need.

“Please, please, fuck me...”, Theon moaned.

Robb placed small, hot, kisses on Theon's neck, pulling his leash, making the collar hurt deliciously, and forcing Theon's face up, to where he could look well into his eyes. Robb whispered into his ear, smouldering and eager “You're too beautiful all wriggling and writhing.”

Theon let out an aroused, wet, spineless chuckle.

“...mean.”

Robb sank a finger into Theon's lubed entrance, moving it slowly, rubbing his inside gently, then adding a second finger. Theon arched, moaned. His ankles were tied, making him open his leg just slightly, but this didn't seem to stop his cave from swallowing Robb in.

Theon's eyes shone dark in desire. He panted, sucked his lips, stared at Robb's hard-on.

“Can I suck you?”

Robb smirked, “Do you think you deserve that much, hm?”

Then Robb's passed his left hand’s fingers on Theon's face, spooning up all the come he had on it, “You should drink this before.”

Theon let his tongue out again, licking Robb's fingers and sucking them, hard and needy, moving his hips against the right hand, guiding Robb to his prostate over and over, until his legs got jiggly and weak.

Theon's tongue on his fingers was hot, his whole mouth enveloping him and then greedily cleaning, all of that just to suck him off, make him fully hard again to fuck himself over his erection... Robb could feel his loins stir in desire, as the devotion gleamed in Theon's aroused eyes, in his scorching tongue.

He added a third finger and started massaging the prostate insistently, getting more and more twistedly horny the more Theon would moan and bite his lips and try to keep his hips straight and standing while shivers ran down his thighs and pleasure leaked from his dick.

“You're a mess.”, Robb whispered again.

Theon let out a chocked sound as Robb’s fingers left his mouth. Robb pulled his hair like the leash and placed his mouth next to the head of his twitching shaft.

“Don't make me come yet. - Robb ordered – I will empty myself in you.”

Robb pushed a fourth finger in, as Theon's mouth, hot against his cock, trembled with a choked moan.

“You suck so fucking well. - Robb smirked, a twist of his crooked fingers and then a harder push on his sweet spot – You haven't done anything else in all of your life, have you? You cock sucking whore.”

Theon trembled, his hips thrusting in the void, his cock painfully hard, leaking precum on the sheets. Robb stared, between enchanted and Dionysian incandescent. 

He wondered where the limit was between hurting Theon good and bad.

His glance lingered, obsessed, mesmerized, on Theon's big, heavy, desperate tongue, lapping the head of his cock, his neck red from the tugs on his collar, while his eyes went soft, his head dizzy, as Robb thrust and teased his prostate.

Theon's mouth wrapped Robb's cock, bobbing over it – Theon's eyes rolling back as he could feel the tip at the back of his throat, big and violating.

Robb bit his lips, trying to still focus on Theon's prostate, while his own erection was teased and tortured to the edge of bliss.

He pulled Theon's leash, thrust into him – merciless, hard and strong – and Theon came, moaning against Robb's cock, sucking it, needy and greedy beyond wanton, to suffocate his own whines, as his shaft splurt white on the sheets, in pulsing, eager waves.

As he was about to raise, Robb's hand exited his ass and pushed his head down on. Theon almost gagged, feeling Robb so deep down his throat.

He almost wished the act didn't make him hard again.

He sucked Robb, closing his eyes, enjoying as his hand caressed and pressed his hair, enjoying the sensation of being both a used whore and a cherished beloved, pulled up, panting as if he had almost drowned, just to let out a choked, afflicted and smitten “Empty...”.

Robb smiled, pulled Theon by the leash, staring magnetized at his tied ankles and wrists, how pretty they made him, then at Theon's abdomen, painted in bite marks and rope signs.

He put a hand inside Theon's mouth, making him suck it again, “Good boy.”, he whispered, hotly, “You're such a good, obedient slut.”

Theon shivered around his hand.

“Fuck me.”

Robb smirked, not intentioned to wait more. He pushed Theon down, face against the blanket, butt up and widened Theon's cheeks just enough for him to enter, smoothly and needed; Theon bit his lips, cursed, drooling and writhing as Robb would pull his leash up, forcing him to arch and making him push against his cock. It entered well, as if Theon's ass were made for it. Robb's cock that felt way too big at first, that still sometimes gave him just that pleasurable, blissful pinch of pain of being stretched and torn, started to feel to Theon like the pacifier for his greedy ass.

He needed it to feel really complete.

Theon sucked his own lips, ashamed of how high-pitched, how down right obscene his moans were getting, inch after inch, as “fuck” “yeah” and “more” panted and whined, piled up and melted down, like boiling wax.

As he felt the slap of Robb's balls, he screamed mute. His jaw fell, his mind was dizzy for a moment. His knees were not opened enough, but it didn't matter at all.

He felt so filled, he almost wanted to sob. Robb's moans of musky, dark, dense arousal behind him didn't help. He could feel shivers going down his spine with every rough thrust.

Theon's knuckles became white clenching his fists close, as Robb pounded into him and... then jumped back out without warning.

“What are y-”

Asha's face showed a certain embarrassment, which she covered with a smug grin, “Well, I see you're having fun.”

Theon became pale and Robb grabbed the closest robe, putting it on Theon, covering him. He zipped up his jeans, although with a certain difficulty, and then untied Theon's wrists and then moved to his ankles. He was staring stubbornly and shyly at the ground, taking off the collar. 

Theon groaned, forcing himself not to look at his sister.

“Don't you know this is classified as a break in?”

She let out a chuckle, “Does it count as a break in when you own the building?”

“I pay the rent like everyone else. - Theon snarked back, annoyed – And uncle Rodrik owns it, not you, unless you paid him to give that up too.”

Asha blinked, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

She bit her tongue, “No, Theon, we're like just all fucking worried about mom.”

Hearing that Robb stood up, “Should I...?”

“Evaporate? - Theon glanced at him, standing up finally and trying to pretend the ropes and knots still on his body didn't keep him hard – I don't think so, because the conversation is over.”

“I'm sure you're very eager to return to your... shrimping, but this is kind of important.”

Theon sighed, clacked his tongue against his palate.

“Then give me at least the time to... make myself presentable.”

“I literally saw you bath until we were six.”

“I also saw you lose your virginity to a highlighter, this doesn't mean we should discuss it.”

Asha shrugged, “I was curious.”

“A highlighter.”

Robb looked around, “I'm sure I shouldn't be here right now.”

Asha turned to him, “You, sheep boy.”

“Why sheep boy now.”

“Don't you think it's more empowering for a woman to pop her own hymens than wait for a man to come and break it?”

“I really don-”

Theon shouted, “You can't make it about feminism. You were thirteen and horny.”

“You lost yours in the temple!”

“ _Next_ to the temple.”

Robb frowned, squinted his eyes, “Are you Jewish?”

“I'm not. - Theon turned to Robb – My mom is.”

“...which technically makes you Jewish.”

“Don't go all historian on me.”, Theon warned.

Robb shook his head, confused, “I think it's common knowledge.”

Asha stared at them “Can you like have your missed orgasm bickering after we discuss this?”

“We're not having a... - Theon shut up, breathed in – I didn't lose it _in_ the temple and, at least, I was with a human being.”

“Pft! Please! Rosie Greenberg can hardly be defined a human being.”

“She didn't fuck a highlighter though.”

Robb breathed in, “I keep having the sensation I should leave the room.”

“What do you even want?”, Theon shouted.

“If you're Jewish why are you not cir-”

“Robb, - Theon turned to him – Are you really still processing the Jewish thing?”

“I’m from Ireland!”

“...fair enough.”

Asha looked at them, tired, “Can we talk about mom or is it a bad moment?”

“You literally entered in my apartment while I had his dick balls deep in my ass, how did you think this was a good moment, Asha?”

Robb's voice became as small as a tweet, “...please, don't say it like that, it's a bit embarrassing.”

Asha blinked.

The guard dog that almost bit her was the puppiest puppy next to her brother. Interesting.

“Look, I'll let you... und...ress and then dress, I'll be out of the apartment, we can talk on the landing if you prefer.”

Theon blinked, confused as to why Asha was letting him win that match, but he nodded and promised to arrive soon.

Robb helped him to untie and kissed the sore spots and bruising skin. Theon pulled in for a kiss and drenched his soul in the warmth of Robb's presence, as if he needed to have him in to gain the energy to face his family.

Robb tried not to feel flattered and prepared a quick coffee, bringing it out of the door for Asha to sip.

“I hope it's Irish.”, she mumbled.

“...it's... nine am?”

“You're a bit too much of a puritan for a catholic.”

Robb licked his lips, “Technically, atheist.”

“A catheist then. - she sipped the coffee – You know... - she smiled at him – You are kind of cute.”

“I am not re-”

“Not you _you_. - he rolled her eyes to the ceiling, exasperated – You... - she looked for Theon arriving behind Robb – You _two_.”

“Oh.”

And Robb gave the sweetest, most radiant smile Asha had ever seen.

And she thought to herself it was the first time she ever saw someone more in love with Theon than their mother.

Her heart felt hard. Theon did have something she didn't have after all, twice.

Theon arrived, arms crossed and the expression of a man who could kill.

“So?”

Asha smiled tentatively, hiding her instinct which was begging her to gulp and run.

“I know we don't have the best past, Theon, but mom is not feeling well, she keeps asking about you.”

Theon scoffed, “Must be hard for you.”

“It is. - she admitted, looking down – But not for the reasons you may think. - she paused – I failed you both.”

“You fucking did.”, he said, stiff.

Robb glanced at both of them, worriedly, then swallowed, “I know it's not my family, Theon, but... you can be angry at your sister and still visit your mom. You miss her a lot.”

Asha blinked, she smiled without realizing and turned to Theon, eyes watery.

“...you do?”

Theon looked away, groaning, but couldn't bring himself to glare at Robb.

Asha's lips rose in a bigger smile, “...do you still play the-”

“Yes, I do. I miss her, but... - he looked away, closed his eyes – I am not ten anymore.”

“She will recognize you, Theon.”

“You can't know.”

Asha bit her cheek, “Well, you know, we could see? Stop being a stubborn ass.”

“...excuse me?”

Asha laughed, “She doesn't recognize anyone, it's not all about you.”

“Is it so crazy not wanting to face my mother not recognizing me?”, Theon asked, his lips quivering, crossing his arms tighter.

“Are you really victimizing yourself for her Alzheimer?”

Robb moved between them, shielding Theon, then spoke, soothing and firm altogether, “I don't think it's constructive for you two to discuss in this way.”

But Asha burst, “You know, guard dogs like you won't convert him. - she turned to Theon – He is a spoiled child, he just likes the attention. Doesn't matter how fucking tired someone else is, the little prince baby boy has to throw a tantrum.”

Theon moved forward, facing his sister again, “You let father kick me out.”

“You came out to him!”

Robb was about to speak, but decided to let them handle themselves, they seemed close to at least sort of meeting a point.

Theon scoffed, “Yeah, sorry, it's the twenty-first century.”

Asha shook her head, “I... you know how dad was.”

“I'm not angry at dad. - his smirk faltered, then turned sharp, like a dagger, and then died in a strangled sob – You are the one who disappointed me.”

Asha shook her head, bit her lips, yelled, “We didn't know about what Euron did to you, we didn't know that...”

Robb frowned, confused.

“I'm not gay because of unc...”, Theon's voice dropped. His throat made a strangled noise.

Asha was still shouting, gesticulating, she barely noticed he froze, “I know, but maybe I could have found a fucking thing to say to dad. Maybe we would have understood your need to fuck a thousand girls in your fucking teens, maybe it wouldn't have sounded like you were going through a fucking phase... - she shook her head – _I_ know you're not gay because of that, but it was dad, you know how the fuck he thought. He wouldn't have...”

Her eyes widened as she saw Theon, still paralyzed, pale as a ghost.

“...you knew about Euron?”

Asha stopped.

As he asked it, she perceived the weight of her words. As they left her mouth, they hit her stomach.

Heavy like stones, like storms drenched in thunders, like Theon's shaky look.

Just after the avalanche, the rumble, then she finally felt on her skin the massive gravity of silence.

His smirk shivered and quivered.

“What the fuck.”

She swallowed, moved closer, touched his wrist.

“I'm so sorry. - she tried to catch his eyes but Theon's glance squirmed away from her – It's not your fault.”

Robb's eyes widened, as he understood. His spine became ice.

Sansa. Theon. Himself. Asha.

He looked at Theon and he was not sure what broke his heart more – that he was seeing Sansa's most vivid, weak, bleeding truth again, or that Theon had to have it sculpted and carved in his fucking bones and muscles and whole backbone of memories forever.

“It's not... - Robb whispered, looking at Theon – It's not your fault, she's right.”

Theon turned to him in a glare as dark as onyx and as cold as ice.

“This is none of your business. - he growled, dragging the words, each heavier and rougher and more gravelly than the one before, shame made his skin hard and his cheek burn – You're just a good fuck, shut the hell up and stop being so fucking clingy.”

Robb took the blow, but didn't move.

His eyelids fluttered, his lips quivered. He froze.

Theon's eyes became as soft and scared as water, glimmering in the shadows of a pale moon, soon to be obscured by clouds. He looked like he was about to cry, instead he swallowed and chuckled.

“You're nothing special, get over yourself.”, he hissed.

Asha moved forward to say something but her brother – the baby brother she wanted and failed to protect all of her life – gave her a look scorching enough to yell at her that yes, she did fail once again and worse than ever, and that yes, he was well aware he didn't have to forgive her.

“And you... - he snorted – You'd use anything to humiliate me.”

“You're being paranoid, Theon. - she murmured, moving closer but he stepped further away, her voice cracked – I, I really just want mom to see you.”

“Why? - he raised his eyebrows, amused – Isn't the perfect daughter enough? Or do you need me to enhance yourself in comparison?”

“...Theon.”

He opened the door, glanced quickly at her and then at Robb and closed it behind himself.

Asha looked at Robb, hoping to find him not crumbled. And he was... sort of keeping himself together, like china covered in Dutch tape.

“He didn't mean it.”

“He's not wrong.”, he said, leaving.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**5\. Glass you break to touch**

 

* * *

 

 

_Because I'm the glass you break to touch,_

_but you never want me much_

 

* * *

 

 

He missed him.

And he didn't want to.

He missed him. Like plants miss the sunlight. Without it they dry inside, and lose the strength to stand up fully and bloom.

He is not gonna apologize, of course.

Robb overdid a bit and why would anyone be that close to Theon, why would anyone try to say something to make it right back then? _He likes you. He worries for you, that's what a friend is_. Nah, it made no sense.

He was just prying, spying, needing to feel important, like all people. They need to feel good by doing nice, pretty actions that look morally outsanding to someone else.

Theon was sure... right?

It burnt still, though, deep in his stomach, in his throat and groin. His spine felt all hollow and his eyes heavy.

He hoped for Robb to come and say he's sorry, to be fair. Or come at all. To make up. To have sex. To talk.

… to kiss.

To run his fingers through his curls, to keep him, to laugh at some stupid joke – to hear again about Sansa, Bran, Arya. Arya, like Aria. Right. And Richard? No. And Rickon. And why did he remember? Why did his brain decide he needed that information? Why did it bother memorizing it?

He left Robb the tickets, under the door, but Robb hadn't replied to him. He didn't even text him nor come up to talk.

A week passed from that comment... couldn't he let it go?

He sighed and stood up. He looked at the clock, noticing he should be heading to the theatre by then to warm up.

He opened the door with a heavy sigh and found in front of him a sight he blinked at.

Robb.

Well, almost. His genderbend.

Pretty rack, sweet eyes, silk periwinkle dress, smiling. She had freckles, like he had, and his heart sunk.

“Good evening. - she smiled, sucked slightly her lips – I'm... Sansa. I came to thank you for the tickets tonight. I can't wait to listen to you.”

He hesitated, then gave her one of his flirty smirks.

“Had I known you were so enchanting, I would have done it before.”

She shook her head, still smiling, “Well, I knew how pretty you would be.”

“Uh?”

“My brother was so clearly crushing on someone and, if I can, he can be quite shallow from that point of view.”

Theon blinked and he was sure his cheeks burned up. Did Robb... still feel like that? Of course, he guessed that Robb had liked him a bit more than how you like a friend or a fuckbuddy, but he was sure it had all went away.

Why did the thought make his throat dry? Why did his lungs sting?

She tilted her head and her hair fell so gently over her shoulders, she sure was damn pretty – but he kept thinking about how much she looked like Robb.

“He is unsure if you want him to come... maybe you could come down to tell him?”

Theon's lips trembled, then he bit them.

“Did he send you?”

“No. - she admitted, as if that meant admitting she was intruding – He is showering and he would be extra angry to know I sneaked out on him. - she smiled, stuck out her tongue and then continued, more serious – He is sure you don't want to see him anymore, but I think if it were so you wouldn't have given him the tickets.”

Theon swallowed, “I'm not the best at making up in person.”

“He is a bit of a disaster, but he really wanted to see you.”

Sansa took from her clutch a little envelope and gave it to Theon who studied it, glance lingering on it, it was heavier than a letter. He frowned.

“Is it for me? - she nodded and Theon sighed, biting his lips – I have to go now. - he stared at the side, avoiding her eyes – But... tell him. I _do_ want him there.”

She nodded, then gave a military salute, “Count on me.”

He watched her leave, periwinkle in her dress, fire in her hair.

He thought about Robb, passing his fingers over the still closed envelope.

 

*

 

“Jey.”

She turned to him, surprised, blinking, “Hey, prince charming, what's wrong?”

Theon looked around, upset. She glanced at him: handsome as always, big shoulders and lean frame, his long, soft hair kept up in a bun, a nice dark suit, perfect tie. But that worried, scared expression shone on his face, ruining the perfect picture.

“Asha. - he swallowed – Did she come?”

Jeyne sucked her lips and nodded, “She'll be here on time. - her hand caressed Theon's arm – I knew you two would have needed to talk.”

Theon made the effort to smirk, “And you needed a date.”

“I so needed a date. - Jeyne admitted, in a laugh – And... yours? Made up yet?”

“How.”

She raised her eyebrows, knowingly, “Make up with pretty historian. He likes you madly.”

Theon shook his head, “We were just friends... I mean, we fucked and were friends, but no, there was nothing more.”

Jeyne tilted an eyebrow, “Really now?”

“I don't think I can even do romantic stuff.”

Jeyne then kissed his cheek gently, putting herself on the tip of her toes, “You need to stop being scared, Theon. Not for this guy, specifically, not for any guy specifically. - she paused – I mean, losing this one would be sad, but you have to do it for yourself.”

“Being in a relationship? How conservative.”, he joked.

She smiled, “Letting yourself be vulnerable with others.”

“But I hate vulnerabilty!”, he whined.

“We all hate doctors' appointments, they are still good for us.”, Jeyne smiled, then her glance turned cold and scared, as something seemed to appear in her field of vision.

Theon followed her look. Ramsay Bolton.

“Is he still pestering you?”

“Yes, but. - she held his arm – Please, don't... get all protective of me or stuff, he's...”

“He's a spoiled brat, not a psychopath. - Theon burst out, holding her tight by the arm – I won't let him hurt you just because you're too good to tell him off.”

_You're such a good kid._

_You suck me so well, Theon, my meek, sweet boy._

Jeyne gulped, seeing anger pooling in Theon's eyes. Not against her, but it didn't matter much.

He didn't even look like himself.

Her charming friend was holding her wrist so thigh she was afraid it would have hurt before the concert.

“Theon?”

_Will you let uncle take your special place too? You will like it, I promise._

_You feel so good._

“Theon?”, she tried again to call him.

Her voice echoed deep but shot. All he could hear were his own sobs.

And the pain in his knuckles, holding onto a childhood blanket, and the wind hitting the birdhouse on the tree and the scent – the stench he had.

His eyes stung.

His mother would have protected him. His mother would have never told him it was his fault if Maron and Rodrik made fun of him or punched him. His mother would have never told him he was a faggot and a disappointment.

His mother wouldn't have let him go away.

His mother would have seen him and recognized him, though. And now, now, that was not anymore anywhere, was it?

That only person in the world who never asked him to change.

_Only? You can name another one._

“Theon?”

He left Jeyne's wrist.

“...are you feeling okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“You look like you're going to puke. - she put a hand on his forehead – No fever.”

_Little Theon, so sweet and meek, so warm and welcoming_.

His hands trembled, a weird choked sound came out of his throat, “I fucked up.”

Jeyne blinked, “About?”

“Robb. - he let out a tiny, weak, strangled sound – I fucked up.”

Jeyne shook him by the shoulders, like one shakes snow from trees by making them jump.

“Theon, you need to focus on work now. - she said, suddenly firm – You have to. After the concert, you'll got to his seat and apologize for whatever went on, but now you need to snap out of it.”

Theon stared at her: his little resilient sister.

Not meek. His proud, little, Jeyne.

He wanted to make sure she would have never gotten hurt, never had to change, to adapt, to bow. To turn.

Theon shook his head, “I have to tell him before we start.”

“Theon, we have to reharse.”

“Just... give me ten minutes, okay? I'll rush to the changing room and come back.”

Jeyne rolled her eyes, but accepted, crossed her arms, “Don't take too much.”

Theon rushed to the room, empty, as everyone had already moved to rehearse, and took out his mobile phone. Just some instruments around, a double-bass – possibly Bolton's? - and some substitutive ones in case of emergency. He put on the floor the cello in its case and the envelope from before.

He looked at the screen for a long minute, before unlocking it and starting to type.

But every word was wrong, every sentence a mess.

I'm sorry – delete – Hey are you here – delete – I know it's late but – delete – Hey prettyboy – delete – I miss – delete – I was thinking – delete – Can't wait to – delete – I think I lik... – delete – Are we still frie... – delete – I want you – delete – Please come – delete .

He sighed, groaned, cursed.

He bit his lips to the pulp.

“Be bold. - he thought – Be your fucking usual, flirty, bold self and...”

He looked at the envelope. His hands trembled, but he tore it open by the side, so badly, he should have probably use a cutter.

Little, yellow sticky notes fled out of it, dropping onto the changing rooms' floor.

Some were stricky still, some not. Some had cigarettes holes and ash stains on them. Some were crumbled or torn and put together with transparent tape.

He never sent them, but he wrote them all the same.

Theon's hands moved almost in a frenzy, feverish, through them. Everything incomplete, brief, desperate.

_I'm sorry. I was an asshole._

_Theo-_

_I was a jerk, please, reconsider._

_I know I don't deserve another chance, I know I asked too mu-_

_I love you._

_I didn't know what to say. We need to talk, no, I need to talk, I need you._

_Please,_

_Is there a way to convince you to change your mind?_

_I love you, pl-_

_I'm sorry. I don't want this friendship to end._

_I think I lov-_

His eyes trembled, his legs failed him. He found himself sitting on the chair, staring at unsticky sticky notes and ashes, wondering what he felt.

He was not sad. He knew that much.

His chest was hurting, his ribs pressing hard, and it was umcomfortable and he felt so scared and he needed to do somethng and his veins were electric with the staticity of his numbness.

And he was smiling.

“I need you...”, he murmured, rereading those words with a swollen heart.

He took the phone and called.

His lips quivered in a smile, not a smirk. Not then.

His eyes stung with tears. As he opened his mouth to speak he felt fingers filling it, unkind and rough.

The mobile dropped on the table, Theon couldn't see it anymore, as someone yanked his hair and forced him to stare at the ceiling. He whined and cursed against the fingers.

He tried to scream, but it came out muffled.

Then he felt some lips brushing against his ear. _Not his, not his_.

“Well, hello, Theon. - a gross chuckle, his tongue felt icky and flaccid, like a slug – Thought you might fancy an occasion to take back the stuff you said about me last time.”

Theon's tongue pressed against his fingers but he felt the knuckles invade his mouth and he could barely breathe. He gagged against it, but Ramsay pushed further in. He could taste his hair, the bad scent of his hand, the sweat.

He tried to shake him off, but Ramsay held him down and then pushed him against the big double-bass. His bass.

Theon pushed back, elbowed him, tried to step on his feet. He could feel him, strong and gross like a boar, his breath so thick and warm it made him nauseous. But he could still react.

Until he felt it: his shaft hard pressing on his ass.

_You're such a good kid._

_You feel so good..._

“You feel so good.”

_You feel so good..._

Theon choked, he felt his eyes pool and sting with pain.

“Oh, yeah... - Ramsay repeated, sluggish and drooling in his ear, his tongue tasting its shell, his hips pressing on Theon – I bet you're going to enjoy it so much, you fucking faggot.”

_You will like it, I promise. My sweet, sweet little Theon._

Euron's scent. Ramsay's.

Where was Robbs'? Where had he lost it?

Robb marked him. He used to.

Bruises, bitemarks, hickeys, his scent – he'd mark him so well and sweet, like he were his bitch, his and only his. Theon tried, in vain, to bite the hand in his mouth, while Ramsay undid his zip and started bucking himself on the fabric of Theon's suit.

Theon was begging himself to move, to scream, to hit him.

Like he did.

Like he did.

Nobody heard.

Asha knew and didn't tell. And now Robb knew too. His shame exposed, naked, like a wound still pulsing red and swollen with its scab torn away.

He could feel tears burn down his cheeks. Not from fear.

Shame. Anger. Dirt. Dirt, dirt, dirt.

_Meek, meek. Sweet._

_So warm._

Ramsay pressed him more against the cello and Theon barely opened his eyes, just in a slit, just in a flinched, hurtful moment.

A bass.

His mother had played for him hers every night. Ramsay's dick pressed more between his cheeks.

His mother who didn't hear him. Ramsay's other hand moved to his belt.

His mother who had forgotten him. Even her. Even her.

And she had become just that, just like an unused instrument, a shell of the melody she was. She'd look at everyone without resounding ever.

A wooden shell, a pretty matrioshka of muted sounds.

She loved, didn't she? But she was nowhere anymore.

“I heard this is how you like it. - he sunk his nose in Theon's hair and smelled it – Rough and brutal, people treating you like a toy.”

Theon flinched in pain. He wanted to scream to Ramsay he hadn't understood anything of what it meant but what was the use in that?

“I'm going to break you and you're going to like it.”

Ramsay's hand untied his belt, letting it fall down, and with one hand, he worked down the pants. Theon could feel his wet dick against his thigh.

_Meek_.

What if his mother hadn't just become a shell, though? What if she had just become someone else entirely? Someone who did not need him, who couldn't remember him.

Pain.

Pain didn't smell like his burnt flesh or blood pooling or not even come drying.

Pain smelled like the sour candy worms Euron brought him as an excuse to enter his room, like his cotton blanket mixing with sweat and tears, like his mother's stew downstairs, in the kitchen, resting, while she went out for one last quick commission, leaving him alone.

And now it was about to smell like Ramsay Bolton's cheap cologne and gross breath.

He closed his eyes there, stretched and squished between all that his mother could be: nothing or someone else.

His mom was nowhere to be found.

Love would have always been nowhere to be found.

He felt Ramsays weight shift, leave. His shoulders freed, his mouth finally filled with air, he almost threw up, breathing in heavily as if he had almost drowned.

A whine, a cry. The sound of a kick.

Another.

“Leave Theon alone. - a spit, then a terribly thick irish accent – Or I'm gonna break your hands open.”

Theon blinked, dumbfounded, staring at Robb as if he had never seen him before and as if he couldn't bear to see anyone else. Maybe he was not there. Maybe it was one of those times when pain pools too much and his head makes up things to...

Robb looked furious. Wrathful.

He was basically growling.

“Leave.”, he roared.

Theon stared at Ramsay struggling to walk out and rushing at the same time, as if he wanted to rush but couldn't find his own legs. He squirmed away like a rat.

It took him a minute to realize... it didn't happen.

It didn't happen this time.

He turned to Robb and Robb turned to him, after making sure Ramsay had rushed down the corridor, obeying him.

“Well. - he looked at Theon, unsure, hesitating, his eyes sturbbonly looking just at his face, clearly terrified to do too much, to be too close this time – Racism can be useful.”

Theon could see how hard it was for Robb not to hold him, how much he was resisting.

“Wh-”

“I don't really know how to break hands. - Robb explained, almost too nervous, his smile jumping up and down – I hoped he would have believed the drunkyard stereot-”

Theon's voice sounded all strangled and weak.

“Why did you come?”

Robb frowned, confused.

He squatted near Theon, who was sitting on the ground, trousers half down, cock limp down his thigh, hair a mess and teary-eyed. His face was all red, his pride about to break, kept together just by thin air, sewn up by Robb's look.

And Robb refused to let him crumble.

“I won't let anyone try to hurt you. - a pause and Robb found the courage to lie – You're my friend.”

Theon's lips trembled as he threw himself in Robb's arms and started sobbing.

He sobbed for his mom, who never heard, who never came, who never protected him enough.

He sobbed for his mom, who was nowhere anymore or wouldn't have been soon.

He clenched Robb's shirt, stained in tears and sobs and made his knuckles white and his sighs choked. Robb held him tight, softly, gently.

Oh, god be good, he missed him. He missed him. How do you miss so much something that is not physically part of you?

Robb caressed Theon's hair as he would have liked to since he had understood what Asha meant and every day from then on. Every hour he thought about just holding him and kissing him and keeping him close and telling him nobody would have ever hurt him again.

The idea of a strangers hands on Theon made his skin burn.

Theon held him tight and closed his eyes, softly, inhaling Robb's soothing scent.

For a moment, as he could hear Robb's drumming heart, he wanted to bring out those sticky notes, the I love yous, the need, ask if really was about being friends.

Then he looked at himself.

Yes, of course they were just intercourse friends. Why would anyone actually want someone like him close for more than sex.

Also he had hurt Robb so deep, for sure he would have never looked at him the same.

Robb's voice clanked, like metal bending under pressure, “Did he..?”

Theon shook his head, “You came in time... - he was sure he should have at least said something – Th...”

“Don't thank me.”, Robb ordered, sinking his face into Theon's body.

And Theon was sure Robb was about to cry too.

Then he felt Robb's hand on his cheek, he looked to him and saw his pupils dilated, dark, something bruning through him – maybe the need to repossess? It couldn't be anything else, right? **–** and saw Robb's lips swollen and wet. He opened and closed his mouth, as to ask if... then he moved his face away.

Theon grabbed him close and kissed him.

And it was probably a terrible kiss. It tasted like the salt of Theon's tears.

And it was probably a terrible kiss. Their teeth clumsily clunked more than once.

And it was probably a terrible kiss. Robb pushed his tongue so deep it hurt.

And it was surely, surely, surely, a terrible kiss, but Theon smiled into it all the same, feeling his bruised lips alight against Robb's, tasting the strength of his arms around him.

_Keep me close, keep me close, don't let me break._

Robb tried to move away, slowly, closing his eyes, in effort, “No no, you are traumat--”

“Oh shut the fuck up.”, Theon grabbed him back, biting his lips and keeping him.

_I love you._

Theon's scent made it hard for Robb to stop. He passed his hand through Theon's hair, soothing him, while still taking his mouth, leaving him breathless.

He hated himself for not having made up before.

Hated himself for not having arrived before.

Hated himself because he knew if that man had actually done anything to Theon, he would have killed him. And he was sure that was not like him. Killing. He was against death penalty for serial killers.

But that... that was worse than anything. And it hurt him how deep Theon had cut into his heart.

Theon's eyes fluttered, “I, I have to go.”

Robb shook his head, slowly, “You shouldn't play, you...”

“I don't want. - a breath in – I don't want him to think he could stop me.”

“But you... - Robb frowned, bit his tongue – There's no shame in needing time.”

Theon stood up, then moved his hand to Robb, inviting him to stand up with him and abandon the floor. He held both his hands and caressed them with his thumb.

“I can't leave these poor idiots without their best cellist, can I?”

Robb tried to smile, but it faded away.

“I'm worried for you.”

Theon looked at their hands, “Tonight, after the concert, I promise, we will talk all you want. But this, this performance, I have to do it, for myself and for my mom.”

Robb nodded, unconvinced, protective, but trustful.

“Rautavaara... - Theon hesitated – The Rautavaara's cello piece... it will be for you.”

Robb chuckled, “That's a hard name.”

Theon shook his head, gave a tentative smile, “Rautavaara was... - his lips hesitated – You'll see. Tonight. Now I have to go.”

 

*

 

“Oh, but that's so adorable.”, Sansa said, softly, moving closer.

The lady grinned, “And this is Foam, because she's all white.”

Sansa let out the softest giggle, “She's so fluffy. - she looked over to the lady's daughter – They are beautiful.”

Asha nodded, “My mom is very fond of her cats.”

Useless to say that was Foam II.

Foam, the original little white angora, died when Theon was twelve. Old age.

And Pebble also was the third of his name.

The only one who stayed was Seashell, a creamy and chocolate colored stubborn balinese that was probably gonna survive them all, clearly due to some bond sealed with Satan.

Or maybe it was still waiting for Theon. He always loved Theon the most.

All the cats did, because he never pulled their tails or mocked them, he just petted them softly, getting the biggest most satisfied smiles when he could make them purr. He was always such a people-pleaser, craving love and approval wherever he went.

Asha bit her lip.

Maybe had she shown Theon more love, he would have been happy.

“Enough tormenting the poor girl with your mobile pics, mom.”, she laughed.

The woman made a little “oh”, but Sansa took her hand and shook her head “Oh, it's not a torment. I mean, looking at cat pictures is most of my internet activity anyway.”

“Do you also have a cat, darling?”

“A dog. - she moved her own mobile, showing her – She's called Lady.”

“Oh! She's so fluffy!”, the woman said in a little smile.

Asha had to admit, seeing her mom so soft, not bold or strong, was almost enterteining. She was having such fun.

She wondered if in her mind she was escaping from Balon's alcoholic nights.

She was just thankful her mom, although not often recognizing them or forgetting midday, always somewhat believed she was Asha, when told. Maybe because her face was hard to mistake. One time she told her she looked so old it was a shame; Asha still smiled thinking of that.

But she never recognized her own brothers or her sons, for the little they visited.

Asha could understand Theon's fear, his torment.

She has just grown sour from not having had the choice.

“Sansa. - Robb waved at her and then blinked at Asha – Oh.”

His glance fell on the old lady next to her. She looked more like Asha than Theon, but then again she had something playful and bold in her eyes.

“... miss Greyjoy?”

She looked at him and smiled, “I'm... Robb. Th... Sansa's brother.”

“Oh. Well, aren't you sweet to help her. -she chuckled, then looked at Asha – If we counted on Rodrik or Maron to be anywhere vaguely cultural with us, bah! They still think I play the electric bass.”

Sansa blinked, “You were a classical musician, miss?”

“I am. - she said, proud – I played Angel of Dusk in this same theatre.”

Robb frowned, “Is it in the program tonight too?”

She shook her head and showed him the program, “No no, but look. - she points on a line – Look, here it says they will have another piece by Rautavaara, that was the author of _Angel of Dusk_ , oh, how I love that one... I play that to Theon when I return from tournees. - she smiled, shook her head – It's my way to say “sorry, I'm back”... oh, well, this one is the cello concert though. Do you know the cellist, Asha?”

Asha went pale, looked at Robb and then smirked, “Not really, sorry.”

“I hope he's good. - she wrinkled her nose, presumptous, proud and Robb then saw the resemblance the most and smiled – If he's not good, it's going to be such a shame for this poor beautiful...”

“He's good. - Robb promised – He's a really, really good musician.”

She seemed satisfied for a moment, then felt sad.

“What's wrong, mom?”

“We shouldn't have come. Theon can't sleep if I don't tuck him in.”

Asha swallowed, “I'm sure he will fall asleep.”

She looked sad, “It's my babyboy. - she said to Sansa – The prettiest. The prettiest boy. He just started playing the cello, he's so good.”

Robb held her hand, smiling, “I'm sure he will become as great as his mother. He'll make you so, so proud.”

She nodded, then shook her head, “He could be awful, I'm already proud. - she swallowed hard, as if she was about to choke – He's... sensitive. Not like, kind. No, like...intense. He feels so much. And there is nothing more special.”

Asha bit her lips to the pulp.

She wanted to scream, to remind her mother she could hear.

But then she remembered all the times Balon scolded Theon for not being more like Asha and she wondered if while they fought so hard on who was the most hurt by a parent's disinterest they somehow failed to realize it was a draw.

She looked at her mom, the white hair put in a soft braid, the red ruby earrings. She put them on herself.

She wondered if her mother knew how much, as a kid, she pretended those to be real and not colored glass.

She was a pirate, stealing gold and gems from everyone.

Sometimes Theon tried to play with her, but he would fall from the trees and she'd yell at him sharks ate him. He'd come back, then, and scrape his knees and palms on the bark to play again.

And then, sometimes, he'd play with her.

The cello was on the boat and he said he'd be the soundtrack to her adventures; she liked that.

When the concert seemed to start, she saw him in the front, ready, and, for a moment, she did feel so proud it hurt her that her mom couldn't recognize him.

Sansa moved closer to Robb and whispered.

“Did you two talk?”

“Almost. - he murmured – He was busy.”

Worry assaulted him again, but he promised himself to calm down. His eyes went to Ramsay Bolton and he clenched the theatre chair, trying to keep himself from wanting to strangle him.

And then, he started.

And Robb was not sure how to say if a piece was good or not. Sure, if they were playing it, the guy must have been somewhat famous; all he could say was that the sounds coming from Theon's cello were soft, and crystaline, and echoed like the soft sound of needed rain in the room.

He had learned about how low the cello or the bass could go, mostly from hearing him practice, but now that he had heard something so clear, so delicate, it almost seemed like the cello had been freed from something, like it started lifting itself towards the high, soft notes.

Theon's hands lead him softly into a melody he couldn't understand, but that he felt.

He held Sansa's hand and she smiled.

_His_ piece.

That was Theon's piece for him. A gift, the first, the most important.

The cello raised and melted into a colored melody that lifted Robb's heart beyond.

And Robb could see that beyond the clouds, beyond the fabric of the sky and the limits of silly time, in some abstract space, everything, even them, could be free.

The most melancholic hold, the tenderest sad grip, caught his heart and pulled its strings, keeping him there, close and whole in Theon.

Melting in notes he had never heard, Robb closed his eyes and let the music lift him and open him, and he could feel Theon's warmth through crystaline, impalpable sounds.

And he remembered the lonely night he first heard him and the first night together, biting each others neck and in each others neck resting, like animals, mismatching bones.

Perfectly damaged goods, naturally misplaced.

A boy without a family, hurt by it.

A boy with a too heavy one, who hurt it.

_Your kiss so sweet, your sweat so sour_...? Was that how it went that song?

A boy who lived of sex and lust and liked to be mistreated.

A boy who wanted the romance and dreamt of being someone's prince.

_Your kiss so sweet, your sweat so sour_. No, maybe it was another one...

A boy who had had his heart carved out by life with a machete, a boy whose heart life melted bit by bit day after day with acid – they fit together so well.

And that music fused them into one.

 

*

 

 

Behind the scenes, at the end of the concert, the air was heated and brimming in relieved tension shimmering low. Asha breathed in and then whistled out, low-voiced, leaning on the curtain-covered column.

“Hey.”

Jeyne smiled, walking towards her, “So. - her eyes shone – Enjoyed the music?”

“I admit I was rather distracted.”, she grinned.

Jeyne shooed her head, amused, and sucked her lips. “I admit when you suggested to bring your old mother to our date, I was not particulaly enthusiastic.”

“Understandable.”

“But. - she said – You got me at worrying for your younger brother.”

“I thought you liked bad girls. - Asha raised her eyebrows – Not the protective type.”

“Ah the leather jacket sister hen gets the gold metal.”, Jeyne promised, leaning towards her and kissing her softly.

“So. - Asha cleared her voice – Who is the one who hits on you, should I punch him?”

“I think your... brother already did that.”

“What?”

“Well, Theon asked me some minutes and... **–** she frowned – Then I saw Ramsay rushing to the stage to reaharse with... signs on his face and... – she raised her face – I didn't think Theon was the type.”

Asha cocked a brow and a smirk, “Yeah, me neither.”

Jeyne smiled, then looked behind Asha and mumbled, “I suppose you have to go away now?”

“I have to bring her home, yes. - she said, softly, – But....”

“But?”

“But it will take something like ten minutes, so, if you could wait for me, I would be very happy to return here without her and with some roses?”

Jeyne weighted the options, biting her lips, “Well, after a performance, usually we all go out for a drink, but I think you can join us. And then bring me home.”

Asha smirked, “Hm, yes, I think I can do that.”

 

*

 

Sansa passed the small businesscard between her fingers, smiling. She bit her lips in a small, tender grin, staring at the writing on the back of it.

Robb frowned, “...is that a mobile number?”

“Perhaps.”, she sucked her lips, her feet wiggling in happiness.

Grey sniffed them and nosebutted them.

Robb raised an eyebrow, “From... a boy?”

“No offence, but not everyone in the family is secretly gay, Robb. - she paused – Yess, a boy.”

“Which one?”

She scoffed, “You're not asking me details on the date I just landed. - she then smiled and her eyes lit up – He was sweet and witty and helped me find my seats while you were away.”

Robb sighed. Never leave a conventionally attractive younger sister unattended.

“He was not the usual blond jerk you go for, right?”

Sansa raised a brow, “Are you per chance worried about me?”

Robb snorted, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “Who? Me? Overprotective and chronically worried? Nah, too out of character.”

“Goofball. - she laughed, then petted Grey Wind – You should go up to your boyfriend.”

Robb breathed out, “He's not my... we're just – it's complicated.”

“Of course it is. - she shook her head – Can you ever do something not extra messy?”

“I'm not messy!”, Robb defended himself, poorly.

Sansa looked at him and smiled knowingly, “ _Please._ Anyway, you should go upstairs to your complication.”

Robb breathed out and his glance fell on her, “Can I really leave you all alone at night?”

Sansa glanced at her pijamas with chickens on it, “Totally gonna go out living la vida loca with my 90s farm cartoonish aesthetic thing going on.”

Robb looked at the thick, cotton pijamas, “I almost forgot about that thing.”

“Your brain was trying to protect you via oblivion. - she pushed him, hitting his shoulders, unkindly familiar – Go, Piss Pot!”

“I am not.”

“Don't rewrite history. - she warned – Accept it, young Skywalker, and go get some... whatever you're into, I'm not sure I really want to know.”

“I don't want to tell, so... - Robb stood up – I.... I may not sleep there, I may come back later and...”

“Oh, holy Jesus Go!”, Sansa cried out, exasperated and Grey wooffed in agreement.

Outnumbered, Robb was forced to go out, he was exiled from his own apartment and went up the stairs.

Sansa took out her mobile and, checking back and forth the number in the small long blue calligraphy, wrote.

 

_Thank you again for helping me tonight. May I hope to bother you another evening?No high heels this time, promise :P_

 

After a moment, her screen lit up, blue like the silly joy of a child.

She ruffled Grey Wind's fur and showed him the text, as if he could read. He wooffed and she decided it was approval.

Robb walked the stairs with the forebonding sense of something impending, big and strong, over his stomach. Happiness or sadness, they felt the same, sweet and sour, bittersweet, almost as if nothing had been uncontaminated in a very long time.

But that was good too, somehow. Because there was joy in everything, and that was something he didn't have the luck to have before.

There was light in every dark spot.

He knocked on the door and waited.

Theon opened the door, smirking smug and flirty; behind him the light made him seem almost like a vision and it painted his dark hair with gold. He had his hands on the doorstep.

“I was starting to think you wouldn't come.”

Robb smiled, shook his head, “As if...” _...I could stop myself from needing you_.

Theon opened the door, sucking his lips.

“Are you up for a bottle of Chateau d'Yquem?”

Robb shrugged and smiled, “Sounds perfect.”

Theon's lips trembled and then painted a small smile, “I want to play for you a double-bass solo, if you feel like more music.”

Robb frowned and grinned, entering and following Theon. “Sure, why not? What is it?”

“ _Angel of Dusk_. - Theon said, his glance moving on Robb's lips, then his eyes – It's... I...”

Robb smirked, then moved closer, passing his hand on Theon's waist and closing the door behind him.

“I can't wait to hear it, but. - he looked into Theon's eyes – I love your cello pieces the best.”

_It's you without ghosts._

_It's a you freed from all this shit._

_Maybe that you could love me._

Theon smiled, caressed Robb's chest, “Then I owe you also one of those. - his hands run on Robb's thick neck – Which one did you prefer? The Kodály one?”

Robb's hand went on Theon's cheek and he caressed it softly.

“I have to tell you something.”

_I love you_.

Theon frowned, raised an eyebrow, “You really are the direct kind. - his lips brushed against Robb's cheek – Won't you have me woo you a bit?”

Robb's voice faltered, then came out croaked, “If you want to... return to being...”

“...friends with benefits?”, Theon suggested.

Robb's eyes shone in pain and desire, pupils blown in need.

He nodded, gulping with labor, “In case, you need to know how I feel.”

Theon was tempted to escape, to run.

Because Robb was too good for him and he was a rotten thing trying to keep himself together, he was as weak as glass and he knew it.

String instruments are so delicate, their wood can break and rot and their strings break and tear. Putting himself in Robb's hands... he was so undelicate and honest and raw.

He bit so deep Theon often almost felt as if he was for real going to be eaten.

...but he never was, was he?

And he couldn't ignore how he felt without him. Those days left him so exhausted, so in need to see him.

God knows normally he would have rejoiced and just found someone else to sleep with.

...but this time he didn't, did he?

And Theon thought about the crumpled I love yous on the sticky notes, thrown away and then written again.

Robb looked at him, waiting for permission to speak up, but Theon was not sure he was ready to hear that, so loud and true it would have broken the eardrums of his heart once and for all.

He played with him, at first, a bit.

But he was the one who got checkmated.

He always sucked at chess.

“If what you wrote... on the sticky notes is still true, - Theon's eyelids fluttered, his hand caressed Robb's chest and neck, his eyes got lost between his Adam's apple and the jaw, mesmerized by Robb's breath and the anticipation rushing through his veins – Could you allow me a bit more patience?”

Robb's lips bent, shyly, hesitating, upwards into a smile.

Was he really ready to wait more? Theon was not sure why anyone would have given him so many occasions or time.

Theon was also not sure why anyone would want him.

Then again... he was not sure himself why he felt so glued to that weird guy.

The copper in Robb's hair shone under the artificial light of the lamp.

And Theon remembered how glass is smoothed by fire.

And how ink spreads on the page that absorbs it, drinking it – just to not be empty anymore. Resistance is futile.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand this is how this ends (for now). I want to thank everyone who supported me by commenting, liking or reading this story. I thank my wife, who is the classical music expert, my muse and also enough unlucky to have to be my beta. She made this mess able to be read and all of this wouldn't be possible without her continuous and resilient support.


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